Cinders and Soot
by salmonellafitzgerald
Summary: Beth Green is kidnaped after a bank robbery goes terribly wrong. As she and Daryl make a harrowing escape through the woods, Her family and Rick Grimes desperately search for her. Things are not always as they seem, as each of them fight against more than just time. AU, exploring several points of view.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: There is some language that could offend and violent situations that aren't suitable for all. You've been warned. **_

Daryl's bike kicked up gravel as he closed in on the crossroads. Merle was waiting for him, sitting on the hood of a beat up, two-tone blue truck. Parts of it so rusted that it no longer held its color. He was surrounded by a cloud of smoke as Daryl came to a stop, face pensive and jaw tight. He quickly surveyed the area, looking for any traffic that might be able to ID them later when they were on the run. If they worked fast and smart, it wouldn't come to that though. His vest fluttered in the wind as he walked towards his brother, dust from the gravel road depositing on his boots.

"We still on for this shit?" Daryl asked as his brother slid down off of the hood and finished the distance between them.

The only response he received was a slight nod. Merle packed another cigarette and lit it up. Daryl looked at the clear blue sky. They were going to have to work fast if they wanted to get this shit done and get out before the place was swarmed over by the cops. He looked back over at the truck and smirked.

"Y'ain't gonna be outrunnin' shit in that, better hope the cops are ridin' bicycles and pogo sticks."

"Don't make me learn you some manners boy, this here is a classic. Ain't seen nothin' drop panties so fast as this lovely lady here." Merle patted his truck adoringly.

"Shit Merle not like any of 'em have standards. They'd drop 'em for a six pack and a smoke."

"Nah, baby brother, them's some fine outstandin' ladies. 'Sides, it ain't bout the speed of the ride, it's all bout the exit strategy. Cops t'ain't gonna be lookin at ole Marla here and thinkin..." The rest of Merle's retort was cut short by his phone. He slid his hand into his pocket and brought the phone to his ear.

Merle's face tensed as the voice on the other end provided him with details for the next few hours, he turned on the speakerphone so he wouldn't have to repeat them to his brother. Afterwards, he hung up the phone and turned his gaze on him. A shadow crossed his face. If Daryl didn't know any better, he would have said it was remorse. Without a word, Merle turned his back on him and climbed into the truck. Daryl followed suit and returned to his bike. It would be full dark before they made it out. The sound of the cicadas burst periodically through the silence of the sweltering afternoon. He paused to wipe the sweat off of his face with a dirty red rag.

When Merle pulled onto the road, Daryl followed close behind. Tonight would either make them or break them. He could hear the music blaring from Merle's truck. It was the only true evidence that his brother felt apprehensive about the events that would soon unfold.

It was later in the afternoon when they pulled up to the bank. Most of the cars had cleared out of the parking lot. The remaining cars, he assumed, belonged to the employees and a few stray customers. Among them sat an older model gold Camry. He could see a dark headed girl lounging in the driver's seat. Her polished toes dangled out of the window and she was belting out Taylor Swift at the top of her lungs. Daryl pulled a face, thinking that he would throw in the towel right then just to make the singing stop.

He could hear Merle's boys closing in around the place and quickened his pace. Once the job was done, they'd scatter and meet in a small cabin across state lines. In no way did he want to go through with this, but a townie cop had his brother over a barrel on bullshit drug charges. If this went down without a hitch, his brother would be free and clear. Except he really wouldn't. Daryl knew that in his brother's desperation to get square with the lawman, he had failed to really think this through. Merle was going to end up the patsy if something went sideways. It was Daryl's responsibility to keep that from happening. Where his brother was reckless, he was calculating. Laughter brought him out of his momentary abstraction.

His eyes tracked two girls exiting the building, one pausing to pull her keys out of her purse. Daryl looked from the laughing girls over to his brother. Merle had already moved into position, parking his truck to block the path into the bank. Although he was a good enough distance away not to spook them, Merle would be making his move soon and then there was no turning back. Daryl finished hiding his bike so that Merle's contact in the bank could pick it up when the cops cleared off, and stalked quickly towards his position. It was his job to keep everyone in the bank and within sight, but he hadn't expected the girls to loiter in front of the door. It made him nervous but Merle had been entirely unfazed by the small addition to their party. Daryl sized the two of them up, calculating, trying to decide which one would be the most trouble. He felt a wave of guilt. He really was a piece of shit, just like his daddy.

The devil in a sunday hat. That was Merle all over. He could charm a cripple straight out of their chair and they would thank him all the while. True as this was, Daryl could see in the way that the girls had tensed up that they didn't entirely trust Merle as he approached them at the bank door, smiling, laughing and boisterous. Before they could act, Daryl materialized from out of the shadows beside the building.

Quickly he grabbed the girl closest to him and hauled her back inside. She fought him back, kicking and biting and he fought the urge to flinch away and run from the blows. He had to help out Merle. He couldn't lose him. Daryl gently subdued her, still trying to avoid the blows she sent into his torso and arms. His stomach rolled, revolted by what he was doing. Her arms were so tiny and thin. The pale skin was battered and red from struggling against his viselike grip. He could see his fingerprints littering her perfect porcelain skin. He was just about to back out and let the girl free when his brother jumped through the door, holding the other girl in his arms and his gun pointed towards the on duty security guard.

"This don't have ta go bad, just give us what you know we're here for and nobody'll get hurt." Merle looked around at the people still in the building, releasing his girl into the small crowd. All of them openly gawked at him. He lifted his gun to the ceiling and dramatically fired a round.

"Come on people, you's actin' like you just saw a spook. Get on the ground and make this easy on me." Merle smiled his most charming smile.

Daryl still had a loose hold on the little blond girl with her keys hanging limply at her side. She had stop hitting him after Merle discharged his weapon, goosebumps graced her arms and Daryl could feel them under his rough fingertips. He felt her body further tense when Merle's guys entered the building. They flanked them, guns raised and pointed threateningly at the tellers. Merle angled his body between them and the guns. In tandem, two men broke away from the group and swept through the crowd gathering phones, forcing people onto the floor as they went. Behind him, a man locked down the door and secured it with a zip tie.

"Come on now, we got a deadline, get goin'" Merle tossed a handful of empty pillowcases to each teller with a nod and a wink.

Daryl watched as the men worked together. Even he was surprised that it had gone down with so little incident. He looked over just in time to see the bank manager dip his hand behind a wooden desk. When he didn't withdraw it, Daryl motioned to Merle and waved in the man's direction.

"Think you missed a phone."

Len walked over to the bank manager and pulled the phone out of his hand. "Fuck, he called 911, been connected for about thirty seconds."

"Securin' the phones is an absolute bank robbin' must, right along with wearin' a mask and cripplin' the security system." Joe said and stepped towards Merle with his gun raised.

The shot startled Daryl. His grip tightened around the girl and he could feel her tense against him. Her tiny hand fisted the leg of his jeans. He was too preoccupied watching the bank manager's skull blow across the floor. Len stood over his body, smile on his face. He and Joe locked eyes, something unsaid passed between them. Shit had just gone sideways. Daryl could tell that Merle had officially lost his grip on the situation.

"Now listen here folks, we'll be making our exit now. We only need one hostage. That one'll do." He gestured towards the girl in Daryl's arms. "Don't be gettin' any ideas when we turn our backs to leave or this will go bloody," Joe looked at the bank manager's body bleeding out on the floor and chuckled, "well I guess it's a bit late for that hugh."

He lifted his gun towards the crowd, took aim and fired. The bullet ripped through the wall, barely missing one of the tellers. With a shit eating grin, he cut the zip tie with a pocket knife and exited the bank into the blearing light of day. Daryl filed out behind Len, still holding the girl. Her hair had fallen loose and was tickling his skin as he held her close. His intention was to let her go in the parking lot, but before he could release her, Joe was pulling her out of his arms and shuffling her into Merle's ride. Daryl jumped into the bed of the truck, looking back when he heard a screech and cussing. The dark headed girl from the car was now clawing at Merle. She kept screaming a name over and over. Beth. She was screaming for Beth. One of Joe's boys crept up behind her and bashed her in the skull. As she fell to the ground, Daryl turned his head. Merle made it into the truck and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He was just beginning to hear the wail of a siren.

The dark haired girl chased after them on foot, before falling to her knees on the road. He took in his brother's red eyes and ripped up face through his reflection in the side mirror. She must have put up a pretty good fight. He felt instant respect. Deep down, he wished that Beth had gotten loose too. Luckily, this whole ordeal was only supposed to last a few hours. They would take the girl out to an isolated cabin, wait until they got a call and then they would turn her out at a busy street, no worse for wear. Daryl knew that was shit. She would never be the same after this. He felt his stomach roll, bile fighting its way into his throat. He choked back the urge to be sick and looked forward at the busted cab on his brother's truck. Joe had all the power now, no denying that, but what it meant for Merle he couldn't yet say. In his gut he knew that when they got to the cabin, all hell was going to break loose.

By the time they arrived, it was full dark. The girl had given up on struggling. Joe had managed to zip tie her arms and legs together before hopping onto his bike and darting out of the parking lot. Whether she was unconscious or just biding her time, He couldn't tell. The truck came to a halt just outside of the cabin door and Daryl rushed to grab the girl before any of the other men could get there. They had all scattered in different directions, but had been instructed to meet back here. He did not have much confidence that they would keep their hands to themselves when they arrived and he didn't want rape added to the many fuck ups of the day. When he opened the door, Beth swung her legs out and kicked him hard in the abdomen. He doubled over, finally losing the contents of his stomach. Merle caught her by the arms and held her in place while Daryl caught his breath. Finally, he was able to grab her and throw her over his shoulder. He took her quickly and quietly into the bathroom, depositing her on the toilet seat. When he pulled out his knife, she flinched away from him. Even as he was cutting her bindings, she remained tense.

Daryl had known pain. All of his life he had known pain. His father's fists, his mother's neglect, Merle's flippant carelessness and constant abandonment. But the look in that girl's eyes, that hurt he would never forget. Her big doe eyes pierced through him, probing him, and he had never felt so low and filthy as he did in that very moment. She silently told him what he already knew, that he was a no good fuck-up piece of shit. What they had done was wrong and the judge and jury sat glaring at him in the form a petite blond that couldn't stand up against a sturdy breeze.

"Why are you doin' this?" She turned her eyes on him. The full power of her silent accusation still piercing him.

"S'complicated." He couldn't find it in himself to lift his eyes to her.

"You look at me. I'm here because of you and you're gonna look at me." At this, Daryl followed her command. He turned towards her. Fire and vengeance replaced the fear he had seen early. Her eyes looked alert and intelligent. He shuddered to think what this tiny little girl was capable of doing.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but look at her and think that she resembled one of those dolls that his mother collected. They had all been so beautiful, skin white as cream, unmarred by lashings and absolutely perfect. Their hair was delicate and fine and he could stare at them forever. Whenever his father would catch him at it, he'd beat him and call him faggot but he couldn't stop. There was something about them that he loved deeply. In an alcohol fueled rage, his father had taken an old wooden bat to them just after his mother had burned herself up. He even pitched a few to Daryl, making him help destroy something that he had loved, before he had turned the bat back on Daryl and fractured his skull. After that, he had crawled into the woods and cried. Merle would have kicked his ass if he'd found out, but he wasn't there. Never was really.

Daryl heard engines outside. He nervously turned his back on the girl and went towards the door. Before he could turn the knob, Merle burst inside. He had been running like a bat out of hell.

"You gotta get. There already arguin' 'bout whether to keep her for ransom or kill 'er." Merle pushed his brother roughly towards the window, but Daryl stopped him.

"Can't leave you here." His brother shook his head and kept pushing him.

"Stop bein' a pussy and get yer ass out. You need me to give ya a boost there darylina? Pull up that skirt and kick off your heels son, you got ta go."

"Like hell I will, that ain't me. It ain't us." He tried to sidestep Merle, but his brother roughly grabbed his forearm. He pulled him just outside the bathroom door and looked him square in the eyes.

"T'ain't no wonder the old man hit ya. Yer as soft as a damn bitch. You need to take pause for the cause brother, cuz you and me ain't gonna make it outta here alive. Yer gonna slow me down, get in the way, just like when we was kids. Shit, I've taken more beatings than I can count cuz you's in the way and ya still are. Now get."

Daryl's heart seized in his chest and he could feel tears burning his eyes, he turned away from his brother and opened the bathroom door. "To hell with you. You ain't never had my back, not then and not now." He walked inside and closed the door behind him.

He wasn't sure what surprised him the most, whether it was the fact that she had skipped out through the window or left him a message with her lip gloss. 'Fuck you asshole' was scrawled across the broken bathroom mirror. He didn't have more time to appreciate her flowery writing before he too was following her path through the window and into the woods. It was easy to track her in the glowing light of the full moon. Although she was small, she had a heavy tread. Her footfalls were irregular, caused by the burst of adrenaline that was carrying her quickly in the wrong direction. Not being able to stomach the idea of her getting lost and dying of exposure, he picked up his pace.

When he finally sighted her, he wasn't sure how to approach her. He was the asshole who had taken her in the first place. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she'd be gone in a second. He stalked around to cut her off and decided to treat it like pulling off a bandaid. He would just jump out and take the beating. Placing his hands non-threateningly in front of him, he stepped out of the tree line. Of all the scenarios that had run through his mind, the one he got had never even crossed it. As soon as she saw who it was, she ran up and threw her body against his, something resembling a hug.

"The fuck, is this stockholm syndrome or somethin'?"

"I ran into one of them other guys. He tried to grab me and I stabbed him with a file I hid in my boot. I thought he'd found me." She burst into shaky sobs and instinctively Daryl backed away. It wasn't a hug after all, apparently he had just become her human shield. He sincerely hoped it was that fuck Len she had stabbed. There never was a piece of shit that deserved it more.

"As you've probably figured out by now, we ain't exactly ahead of the situation anymore. This ain't just a hostage situation now, it's a survival one. I don't know how well they can track us, but you walk around like a fuckin' elephant so my guess is we ain't safe here."

As if to illustrate Daryl's point, a bullet whizzed by his head, cracking bark in the tree behind him. He looked across at the girls face. He could see it written all over her, the damn bullet must have gotten him. He put his hand to his head and brought it back covered in blood. She pulled him down right as the next bullet penetrated the same tree. He quickly looked around and assessed the situation. If they didn't get moving, they were fucked. He grabbed her arm and pulled her off the ground. Acting before another bullet could find its mark, Daryl darted off further into the trees with the girl in tow.

She was cumbersome and moved slow, he constantly had to readjust their path. At this point, he was just trying to throw them off the trail, but the way she walked and breathed there was a good chance they would be caught. His head wound was still bleeding and now had started hurting. He was growing more irritable with each step and the blood loss was making him feel weak.

"Can ya just fuckin' stop. Yer breathin' like a bulldog with a goddamn head cold." He looked at her pointedly before turning around to survey the area. He hadn't managed to turn completely around before he caught sight of them. Two at least, but probably more somewhere in the trees, waiting for them to run.


	2. Chapter 2

"Daddy, they took her." Maggie pushed away her father's probing hands as he kept trying to touch the butterfly sutures closing the broken skin on her face.

She hadn't been paying attention when Beth had been pushed inside. It wasn't until she heard the sound of engines rumbling around the lot, surrounding her, that she climbed into the back seat and ducked her head. She pulled out her phone and dialed the police. Dropping it into the floorboard, she snuck out of her car, weary of the one man left outside to guard the lot. She had always been sneaky, preternaturally so, but today she took great pains to conceal herself in the shadows beside the building. Without a pause, she had jumped the man she thought was carrying her sister. Instead, she went head to head with the devil. As she was clawing lines of crimson into his face, a man came up behind her and bludgeoned her. She pried herself off of the ground, but not before taking a couple of kicks to the face. Running behind the truck, she screamed out her sister's name until her voice ran hoarse and she fell to the ground in despair.

The cops had been shamefully slow in getting to the scene. When they came across Maggie Greene, she made them sorry for their delay. She was wild, restless and spiting venom. The EMT that patched her up had the worst job by far, taking him and two patrolmen to hold her to the stretcher. The adrenaline didn't dissipate until she had almost made it back home to the farm, several hours after the event had transpired. She was going to have to tell her daddy what happened. It was going to kill him. Ever since Beth was born, Maggie had the sneaking suspicion that she was daddy's favorite. They indulged her, sometimes treating her like blown glass, but she had to believe that little Bethy would be tough enough to survive what was in store for her now.

"Daddy, they took her." She looked at her father's crumbling face. "There was a bank robbery and they took her hostage. The cops ain't heard nothin' yet and they can't match the truck based on my description." Maggie's legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled to the floor at her father's feet. Hershel put a hand on his older daughter's head before stepping outside on the porch.

A police car pulled up close to the house and Hershel descended the stairs to meet his guest. The officer looked several years older than he must have been. His eyes were weary as he took in the visage of the grieving father. He had seen too many missing girls of late. Whoever had moved into town was bad news. Real bad news. Rick Grimes stretched his hand out towards the weather beaten man in front of him.

"You Mr. Greene?" Hershel took his hand in a light, but firm handshake.

"Yes I am. Is there a reason you're here on my farm and not out lookin' for my little girl?" He gave Rick a very pointed look before turning his back and walking towards the house.

He paused only once to gesture for Rick to follow him. Maggie was no longer crumpled on the floor. He suspected that she had snuck out back and into the hayloft. She and Beth went there a lot as children, thinking that him and his wife didn't know. They did, but didn't want to discourage a little sisterly bonding. If they were going to sneak out, it was better they did so on the farm than anywhere else. He walked into the kitchen and pulled two glasses out of the cabinet and went to the refrigerator to fetch some tea. By this time, Rick had taken a seat at the family table, waiting patiently until Hershel's gesture of hospitality was complete.

"Thank you. We need to get a few details, something to help us find your girl. Was she seein' anybody or mention talkin' to anybody new at the bank?" He had pulled out a small notebook and pen, waiting for the older man to divulge any details that could turn the case for them.

"As far as I know, my daughter wasn't involved with anybody. Not seriously anyway. Now, she did mention that the bank had hired a new office manager. I can't recall her name. Bethy was quite fond of her though." Hershel took a small drink of tea and a shadow briefly graced his features. Standing up suddenly, he walked out of the kitchen. A few moments passed and Maggie came in behind him to fill his seat. She looked at his tea glass along with the pitcher sitting on the table.

Taking her daddy's glass in her hand, she swirled the contents around for a moment before looking at the officer. "My sister made it this mornin'. The tea." Maggie dropped her gaze for a moment and placed the glass gingerly back on the table.

Rick lifted his abandoned glass and took a drink. Maggie peered up at him through short dark hair, looking hesitant. When she had entered the room, he noticed her carrying a small photograph. She now placed it on the table and slid it across the top to him. He looked at the two girls in the picture, smiling and happy.

"That's the most recent picture. In case she can't identify herself when you find her." Maggie dropped her head down to the table. Miserable.

"I'm sure she'll be able to identify herself just fine Ms. Greene. If she's anything like you than she'll be plenty spirited. Sometimes that's all it takes to make the difference."

"How would you..Oh, you were there at the scene."

"Not til later, one of my officers said you were somethin' of a hellcat. Took three of them in total to get you fixed up. Said you ran after the abductors on foot. That takes guts and I can see you've got em in spades. I'm sure Beth does too." Rick placed the picture into his shirt pocket, careful not to bend either of the faces.

"Is there anything we can be doin' in the meantime, other than dwelling on her not bein' here? Should I make posters or somethin'?" Rick looked at her and shook his head.

"Until we figure out the nature of the kidnapping, we don't want to give them any reason to get jumpy and do somethin' stupid. Tell your circle of friends, have em keep a eye out, but let them know to be discrete. But the best thang you can do is just be patient. I'm not gonna stop looking for her, she's my priority." He extended his hand out and Maggie shook it.

After seeing the officer out, she went to find her father. It wasn't difficult. She found him sitting on her sister's bed, holding a small stuffed bear that her first boyfriend had won her at a fair. He didn't last, but Sparkles did. Maggie had named it, it was more of a joke but somehow it stuck. She moved to the foot of the bed and sat down next to her father. Gently, she placed her hand on top of his.

"I love you daddy."

"I love you too magpie."

* * *

Rick met his partner at the station. Shane had been the slowest to arrive on scene, stating that he had run into some personal problems at home. Rick didn't question him too hard. He had been noticing more and more that his partner's demeanor was changing. He was becoming too aggressive out on call, starting to become more of a liability than an asset. If it wasn't for the long history they shared, Rick would have put him on a desk or let him go. He hadn't told him that he was going out to talk to the Greene family, he figured that Shane's presence would be none too comforting.

"Has there been any news for me?" Rick continued walking to his office while Shane fell into step beside him.

"No man, they're just gone. I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this out of the papers." Shane didn't meet his eyes. He started forward as their strides began to increase in length.

"We need to get in front of this. Keep out the details of the kidnapping. That'll at least give her a chance." He looked at the side of his partner's face.

"You don't believe that. That girl is already dead and you know it. Just like the other ones that've been popping up all over the county."

"We've got not reason to believe that case is connected with the robbery. Wouldn't make any sense, someone takes girls and then also robs a bank." He reached the door of his office and pulled his keys from his pocket. He had taken to locking it recently.

"And you think there just happens to be two crews of bad guys lurking around the countryside?"

"Abductions don't have to be a group effort. It could be one man responsible and then an entirely unrelated crew for the bank job. It would make more sense. Why keep someone around who will draw attention?" Rick finished unlocking his door and walked inside. "Let me know if something comes up. I'd like to stay abreast of the situation."

Shane walked away and Rick followed his retreating form with his eyes. He would be involving the FBI soon. His little band of merry men would be woefully insufficient to solve this thing by themselves. They didn't have the manpower or the cooperation needed. He dipped his hands into his drawer and pulled out his address book. He flipped it open and pulled out a yellowing business card. Before he could get settled and figure out what in the hell to say, someone began shouting in the main office. He jumped out of his seat and hustled towards the noise.

"Chief, we got a call. It's about the girl. Beth Greene." The blonde handed him the phone and he looked at her, aggravated that she hadn't given him more details about the caller.

"This is Rick Grimes"

"Good to know, now everyone will know who is responsible if you don't follow my instructions exactly. There are rules officer. If you play by em, then we won't have any problems. If you don't, we'll have to teach ya." Rick listened carefully to the man's voice and to the noise in the background, hoping to hear something to tip him off on location.

"To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"You can call me Joe. You ready for my instructions officer?" Rick grunted, indicating that he should continue. "We're sensible men officer Rick, we know that the girl probably comes from good god-fearing farm folk, so I'll be reasonable. I'd like 250,000 for her safe return. By what I understand, the father has a nice sized estate and veterinarian clinic, if he liquidates some of that then he'll be good for at least that much, hell maybe more. I'm not interested in the more."

Rick stopped scratching his instructions onto the paper. "Is that it? What about the timetable?"

"We're in sort of a crunch for time, but I'll allow the family a week to get everything together. I'll be in contact soon to let you know when the drop is to take place. If you call your little friends at the FBI though, I'm afraid Miss Greene wont be making it home to see daddy."

Rick stared at the phone after the man hung up, looking around the room he noticed that his partner was once again missing. He returned to his office and stared at the yellowed card. Not this time. He took it off his desk and nestled back inside his address book. He placed it inside his desk and slammed the drawer. He needed to call his wife, talk to her and his son. Tell them how much he loved them. It wasn't until days like this that he really truly regretted the rift that had developed between him and Lori. Instead, he slowly rose from his chair and grabbed his keys. He locked the door on his way out to speak with the new office manager, Carol. He had found her name after reading over the statement she had given. She seemed to be on the up and up, but you could never really be sure about people anymore.

She was the only one left at the bank after the events of the day. They were still scrubbing the bank manager's blood off of the floor and she was considering just putting out the money to replace the floors altogether. Not like it was necessary, considering that nobody would want to set foot in that branch of the bank after a day like this one. Rick approached her slowly, making a noise low in his throat to get her attention. She jerked her head up in surprise, her nerves still frayed from earlier. Rick quickly apologized and extended his hand to her.

"I'm Rick Grimes, and I know you've given a statement already, but I have some followup questions about an employee. The one that was taken." Before he could continue, Carol interrupted him.

"Beth Greene. She was a good girl." Carol looked at him with troubled, but beautiful blue eyes.

"Did you talk to her any that day, about anything? The weather? Boys? Anything bothering her?" Rick looked at Carol and waited for her response.

"Beth's a grown woman, boys wouldn't be something she discussed with her manager, officer." She narrowed her eyes at him for a minute. "As for there being anything bothering her, not that she told me. She was happy. Sang at church and occasionally at this little bar downtown. Her daddy doesn't know that though so lets keep it between us."

"Is it the type of place that bank robbers might frequent?"

"I'll admit it's a little rough, but nothing that a smart and capable woman couldn't handle. It's where she found me, Beth is the reason I have this job to start with." Carol drew her arms up and crossed them over her chest.

"Is there anything else I should know, anything that might come up later if this investigation ever goes anywhere?" Rick looked at her, open, honest and without judgement.

"My ex-husband was a mean bastard, but there isn't any chance that he's connected with what went on here today." Rick nodded and bid her farewell. He wrote down directions to the bar, intent on going and asking around once he was in his civilian attire.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: I'm not terribly pleased with this chapter and I'm sorry if you guys aren't either. Big thank you to for being my first and only review on this story. **_

Daryl had no intention of being killed by these dicks. He grabbed Beth's arm and ran blindly into the woods. He could hear shots fired behind them, pieces of bark flew against his face and arms. The ground dipped below him, but before he could turn around and warn Beth to be careful, a fist flew out of nowhere and clipped him in the jaw. For a moment his world went fuzzy. His attacker took him to the ground, landing kicks to his stomach and abdomen. Listening to the sickly thud of boots against his ribs, he felt bloodlust wash over him, take control of his body and drive his senses into a frenzy. Muscles tightened as he swept his leg out and took his attacker to the ground. He raised up slowly, muscles taught as he raised his fists, ready for the next attack. The man, much larger than Daryl in girth, pulled a knife on him and they began to circle each other slowly, arms extended to keep as much space between them as possible.

Beth was nervously glancing into the trees, waiting for his friends to arrive and silently wishing that she hadn't left her nail file protruding from the other guy's thigh. She sucked in a harsh breath as the blade bit into the flesh of Daryl's arm. The man moved quickly into the center of their circle, trying to throw Daryl off guard. Years of having to keep a level head, being zen while Merle raged, helped to keep him from falling into his attacker's trap. In the end, the man was just too slow.

Daryl managed to sidestep him as he lunged, causing the guy to overcorrect and topple over. Immediately, He applied pressure to the downed man's right shin, pushing until he heard the tell-tale crack of bone and a single agonized scream before Daryl knocked him unconscious, afraid that the scream might give away their location. He pulled a dazed Beth by her hand after doing a quick sweep of the man's pockets. Coming up empty, he picked up the man's knife and they dashed through the trees, Beth praying and Daryl pissed. When the man had taken him to the ground, he had heard his ankle crack. After ten minutes of moving, Daryl could feel the heat of it creeping up into his leg. Best case scenario he had just tweaked it and the swelling would go down eventually. Worst case it was broken. If it was broken, they were fucked. He slowed them down and looked at his companion. She was drawn and terrified. Her pale skin was even paler, almost sickly looking with fear. If Daryl wasn't in so much damn pain, he would have made an effort to put her at ease.

He decided that the measures he had taken to lose them earlier had not been enough. If they wanted to escape, he was going to have to put in a lot more effort. At the very least, two men were out of commission, his mouth quirked into a tiny smirk as he thought about Beth stabbing someone with a nail file. He also took a moment to be relieved that it hadn't been him that she had stabbed. There were probably more men down too, depending on how hard Merle fought back. It was in that moment that he realized his mistake. Thinking about Merle caused despair to shoot through him and he felt his heart throb painfully. Throat tightening, he had to turn his back to the girl in order to compose himself.

"I need you to walk through the woods, go that direction and then turn left. 350 steps in both directions and then wait until I get to you. Understand? And watch for fucking snakes and shit." She nodded her head. "I'm serious, this ain't hard and you need to pay attention." She cut her eyes at him, turned and walked away.

When he saw her fallen ponytail moving in the opposite direction, he walked around to a sapling and knelt beside it. It took a moment to let the pain of Merle subside. He felt the burn of unshed tears, his throat still tight. All of a sudden, he was finding it too much to stand. He collapsed to the ground, position aggravating his injured ankle. After a few deep breaths, he used his stolen knife to strip away two branches from the sapling. He needed to get the pressure off of his ankle. He didn't know if a splint would work, but he was willing to give it a try. Pulling the sleeves off of his shirt, he ripped the fabric into strips. Combined with the sapling branches, he was able to make a decent splint. It did very little for him. Better than nothing he thought and hobbled into the trees.

Beth Greene was sick of this bullcrap. Of all the miserable people on God's green earth that could have kidnapped her, it had to be this guy. Heck, miserable was an understatement. The man was downright hateful. She had hoped she was home free when she made her grand escape through the bathroom window, even leaving behind a colorful message. One that her father would not have approved of, but of course it wasn't that simple. She was in for the long hall of suck ass days.

She thought back on the piece of conversation she heard as she was trying to climb silently through the window. As far as she could tell, he had left someone close behind at the cabin. Although she didn't care to speculate on their exact relationship, she figured that maybe it was the main source of his hostility. That, and he was obviously stubborn as a mule. She had known some men like that in her lifetime, her daddy being one. He would deny being stubborn, choosing to label it "set in his ways." They were none too easy to get along with. However, like her mother, Beth Greene had been endowed with the gifts of patience and great emotional acuity. She may not be used to traversing the woods of Georgia, though she was not necessarily a stranger to them, but she had often explored the turbidity of feeling-driven actions.

"Damn." Beth muttered to herself, having already lost count of the steps she was supposed to be taking. Honestly, she figured that he had just rattled off some arbitrary number so that he could be alone with his grief. She could see it written all over his face. His demeanor had changed instantly. His otherwise stoic face contorted into a mask of true pain, she had known the second that he had stopped to really think about the man he left behind. If it had been anyone else, she would have instantly wrapped her small arms around them and hugged the sadness away. She had to stop and roll her eyes at the thought. No way the bristling man would have allowed her to make a gesture so intimate and reassuring. She had been his captive less than a day and already knew that he actively evaded human contact. The way he tensed when she had wrapped herself around him earlier. It would have been comical had she not been so dang scared.

The irony didn't escape her. The desire to comfort one of the men that had abducted her. She had believed him when he muttered that it was complicated. He was obviously a little lost. Childlike in some ways. She didn't believe for a moment that he had truly meant to hurt her. While she couldn't forgive him for taking her away from the safety of the farm and her family, she was willing to work through that to understand his motives and point-of-view. What could possibly make someone so desperate as to rob a bank. When that gun had gone off, he was like her. Connected more so than she had ever been with anyone, sharing that moment, the fear and bewilderment, together. The way his arms tensed around her, protecting her and anchoring them to the ground. She hadn't given it much thought when it had happen, fear had made her mind move more slowly. Not now. Her mind blazed like a wildfire, working out the problem that was Daryl, the man, and reconciling it with Daryl, the bank robber/kidnapper. She just couldn't make the ends meet to form one cohesive picture.

Beth blew out an exasperated sigh, it was supposed to be such a good night too. By this time, she would be getting all dolled up to go see Jimmy. Three years ago, he had been all knees and elbows but he had grown up right. She slapped her hand roughly against her face, of all the things to be thinking about in the woods while on the run. Beth blushed just a little, embarrassed by the strange workings of her own inner dialogue. This was a survival situation and she needed to get her head in the game. By the way her guide looked, she would be giving him a piggyback ride through the wilds of Georgia.

She stopped moving and tried to remember how many steps she had taken. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders and turned left. At least she would get that part right. She counted these steps carefully and when she reached her destination, stood still and waited. After a while, she sat down on the ground, almost giving up hope that he would come find her. As that thought crossed her mind, she heard a twig snap behind her. She flipped around just in time to see the injured man limp into view. His ankle was visibly worse, but she was thrilled that Bear Grills made it back.

"Weren' where you were 'sposed ta be." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't think you can make it much further on that ankle. Looks bad and I think your head may still be bleeding." Beth pointed at his hairline.

In response, Daryl put his hand to it and drew it back covered in blood. He wasn't about to admit that she was right. They squared off and he looked at her with critical eyes, affecting disdain. All the while, she was looking him over too, searching for things to hate. Suddenly she felt guilty. Her daddy would be disappointed in her for judging a man by his looks. However, to be fair, she figured her daddy might actually agree with her considering he was the man the grabbed her up and made off with her in the first place. She swatted a bug off of her shoulder and looked up to see the glow of dawn approaching, worried that it would be easier to find them, she looked into the woods and successfully ended whatever force of will had glued them in place. Daryl started walking and she followed close behind.

"So what's yer name anyway. Mine's Beth." Daryl shot a glance back at her, but didn't respond.

"Nothin', really? I mean, I would hate to point out that you abducted me earlier so you might actually owe me some information." Daryl stopped moving entirely.

"Think that might be why I ain't givin you my name?"

"Are you a kidnapper or a bank robber? And just for future reference, I heard that other guy call you Daryl, I was just being polite by asking."

"Yer whatever gets you the most time in the cage." Daryl ignored her last statement and started moving again, searching for a place to hole up for a few hours.

He could hear a stream in the distance. Feeling relieved, he evaluated their situation. After darting off into the woods without food or water, their chances of survival had been low at best, but having access to water would make all the difference. If it was running, then it was probably potable and they could use it to hide their tracks. Without saying a word, he walked in the direction of the rushing water. When it came into view, he audibly sighed. He dropped to his knees and plunged his head under, pulling it back to the surface, he used the water to wash the sweat and grime from his neck.

He gave Beth a moment to wash her face and take a drink before rose gracelessly to his feet, obstructed by the splint, and waded into the stream. At first he didn't think the girl was going to follow him in, but after a moment she let out a dramatic sigh and waded in behind him. They crossed the river, the water not yet strong enough to hinder them. Once on the other side, they continued to walk ankle deep. After what seemed like an eternity to Beth, Daryl finally cut back onto dry land. She could feel the water sloshing around in her socks and shoes. Making a face, she continued to move.

By the time they finally stopped moving, he had a brand new respect for Beth Greene. She didn't whine or complain about a single step. Hell, he was pretty sure she would let her legs fall off before she said a word about being exhausted, but he knew she was. He was too. They were both running on very little sleep and absolutely no food. All he had was a stollen knife. He had dropped his favorite knife at Merle's feet just moments before finding the bathroom empty.

"A'right, this is as good a place as any. You got an hour and then we switch." Daryl dropped down by a tree to rest his back.

"We're just gonna sleep in the open?"

"That a problem?" Beth didn't even bother to answer him back. She dropped onto the ground and laid her head on her arms. She shifted several times before she could even get close to finding a comfortable spot. Before she could throw in the towel, she felt leather hit her in the face. Picking it up, she scrunched her face at the manly odor coming from it. She folded it neatly and placed it underneath her head. The makeshift pillow helped to pull her into a restless slumber. She could tell that it was midday when she woke up. The way that the sun peeked through the trees, the color that it cast across the leaf strewn ground gave it away. He had let her sleep well over three hours. Concerned that he too had fallen asleep, she looked around. Panicking when she couldn't see him in the immediate area, she jumped off of the ground and snatched up the vest he had thrown at her earlier. Before she could run off into the woods to look for him, she heard him clear his throat. The trees were obscuring him.

"Here." He held out his hand and motioned for her to throw the vest at him. Her eyes tracked over his toned arms as he put on the article of clothing. Slapping her hand across her eyes, she turned around and walked in the opposite direction. This was not the time to let her hormones get the best of her.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: Thanks to everybody following, reviewing and lurking. **_

"Officer Rick, there was a John Doe admitted to the county hospital. Andrea said you might be interested in taking a look." Amy blinked up at Rick. He had just gotten back to the station after speaking with Carol. He sighed and turned around to walk back out.

The trip to the hospital was a quick one. Once inside, he bypassed the information desk and entered the stairwell. When he saw the sign for the second floor ICU, he hung a left and walked on to find Andrea. They had spent a lot of time together when the locals started finding dead girls in the woods. Him and two FBI agents worked the case until it ran cold, efforts blocked by a bigwig district attorney turned senator. Andrea had consulted during the initial autopsies, but Senator Blake insisted on assigning someone else to the case. The only thing left over were the materials interred into the tomblike evidence locker, evidence bags shoved into three carefully marked boxes. Beth certainly fit the description of the other girls, but her abduction didn't fit the MO. No, he found it very unlikely that the two cases were related.

He saw Andrea's blond ponytail bobbing around the corner and picked up his speed to catch up with her.

"Doctor. Andrea," Rick called her name, trying to get her to slow down, "I heard you got somethin' for me." Andrea whipped her head around and looked Rick over. A small smile graced her features.

"John Doe, admitted with multiple stab wounds to the upper torso and a few to the lower extremities. Several defensive wounds to the hands. Dehydrated. He either walked until he dropped or someone tortured him and left him in the ditch for dead. Multiple stress fractures to the second and third metatarsals, heel and navicular. Someone saw him on the side of the road and called dispatch. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it sooner. Amy not working out for you?" Andrea looked at Rick, smile still playing on her lips.

"Your sister's gettin' the hang of it. Been awake yet?"

"Long enough to call me sugar tits and hurl racial slurs at some of my nurses. Been out since. Interested in seeing him?" Andrea started walking in the direction of the room with Rick following close behind.

Andrea turned her head just slightly as they reached the door, "Oh yeah, and his fingerprints have been scraped off, but I think he did that to himself. Won't know how successful he was until the swelling goes down."

Rick wasn't surprised by the extent of the damage done after hearing Andrea's description. He was just surprised that he had survived long enough to crawl into a ditch. The man's face had been worked over, probably by more than one individual. His eyes were swollen shut, his lips cracked and bleeding. White bandages littered his arms, hands and head. Rick could also see the evidence of bandaged feet resting under a pale blue blanket. Whatever had happened had been one hell of a fight. He moved further into the room. Andrea was already leaving, shutting the door behind her, as Rick pulled a chair next to the bed. The IV's in the man's arms and the slow whirring and beeping of machines put Rick on edge. He leaned closer to the body to look for any identifying markers.

"If yer gonna kiss me, better buy me a drink first." The man rasped out. Rick's shock was the only indication that the man had done anything at all.

"Can I get your name, maybe notify some family?"

"I'ain't got any and probably best you don't get my name." The man remained motionless on the bed. Rick looked him over.

"Can you at least tell me who did this to you?"

"Prolly best I don't do that either. Officer?" The man paused as if waiting for confirmation before continuing. "Yeah, yer definitely a cop. Talk like a cop, all friendly and such. You need ta watch yer back officer friendly. Got a fox in the henhouse." The man's breathing deepened and his chest rose and fell with fewer intervals.

Rick gave him a moment and when he didn't say anything else, he sat back in his chair and looked the man over. Short cropped hair, white skin and no identifiable features. He puzzled over the man's last remark. Fox in the henhouse. Rick decided to keep this incident to himself, just for now. He rose from his chair, but before he could exit the room, the man rasped out one more sentence. Rick's eyes enlarged slightly and then he turned on heel and shut the door behind him.

Sitting at his desk, Rick fidgeted with his pen before finally pulling his address book back out and tossing it on his desk. It was time. He flipped it to the middle and removed the yellowing business card. He stared at it a moment before picking up his phone and dialing the number printed on it. It rang three or four times before he heard a voice on the other line.

"Rick." The voice identified him without him saying a word.

"I got a case that I need some help on. Somethin' ain't sittin' right and I can't quite figure it out." The line was silent for a moment, until he heard a gentle exhale of breath.

"I'll be there." Before the person could hang up the phone, Rick cleared his throat.

"Gonna have to make this at advisory capacity. Already been told not to involve the FBI."

"I'll be there." The voice repeated before hanging up the phone. After the line went dead, Rick heard a followup click. He smiled to himself, this was no longer just about a missing girl and a bank robbery. Something much bigger was in play. He placed the card back into his address book and tossed it into the drawer. He didn't typically lock it since he kept his office door locked, but today he just a feeling that he should. A fox in the henhouse. He pushed his chair away from the desk and rotated towards the window. Out back in the training lot, he could see his partner Shane doing pull ups.

An hour later, Rick was watching the scenery as he drove through an unfamiliar part of town. Rick heard his cell ringing over the hum of the scanner. He looked down at the number, Lori calling. He took his eyes off of the phone and looked around for street signs. He was looking for Terminus, the bar that Carol had told him about. He maneuvered the car into a small paved lot. Already he could see that the cars were outnumbered by motorcycles two to one. The place looked rough. He couldn't picture the smiling Beth Greene being involved with a place like this, but as long as he had been a cop he had discovered only one universal truth. You can never really figure somebody by their looks. He closed his car door with a snap. Rick walked quickly to the entrance and pulled it open with a hard tug.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: I've been staring at this chapter for way too long. It's getting to the point where I'm taking things out and putting them right back in with the same exact wording. So i'm releasing it into the world. I'm sure there is a mistake or two or three that I didn't catch. **_

"There aren't bears here are there?" Beth asked after tripping over yet another branch. The cracking noise made her face flush and pulse beat wildly against her throat, aware that at any moment that someone or something could come crashing through the underbrush.

"Yeah." He replied, not stopping to contemplate how true that answer might be. He was too preoccupied examining a clump of bushes, taking a quick note of growth and type in order to help identify their location.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Probably." he bent back into the upright position and his back cracked audibly. His swollen ankle protested silently, to his relief, not wanting the girl to say anything about it. "I don't know, maybe. Stop asking stupid questions." Beth looked affronted at his tone of voice, not at all thinking that her question had been stupid.

He had finally caught a break. They were now in the great state of Georgia and he was a day maximum from getting rid of his companion and leaving to find out Merle's fate. He hadn't thought about Merle since that time in the clearing, when he had given in to his grief. Since he was little, he had held tight to the same illusion. Nobody could kill Merle but Merle. His old man certainly tried. He could remember vividly, the two of them going head to head. Finally, his daddy's beatings drove him away. If Daryl didn't have enough reason to hate his old man, running Merle off had put the last nail in the coffin. Putting that man in the grave had been the happiest day of his life. The alcohol ate his liver and the devil took his soul.

Daryl made an effort to push the thoughts aside. He could banish the thoughts of his father, but the specter that was his brother refused to leave him be. Even after he made it out of the woods, it would take a long time to track his brother down. He could be in any one of a dozen places all across the state of Georgia. His brother was nothing if not extremely prepared. His heart throbbed again. He couldn't stomach the thought that Merle hadn't made it, that he was alone and rotting in that cabin. Every action he had taken over the last few years had been at Merle's behest. He didn't know how to live for himself or his place in the world. He took a moment to adjust their direction. He had been lost in his own head for several hours and only the girl's occasional questions had drawn him out.

He would be lying if he didn't admit that at least half of those hours had been spent thinking about her. Thinking about how she had reacted to him when he was putting on his vest. He pretended not to notice, but the look of guarded appraisal threw him off balance. Women had always admired his body, muscle and definition won by years of hard manual labor. Beth wasn't the same. She didn't look at him like a piece of meat, her glance was fervent but embarrassed.

He mentally reminded himself that he was a tired, dirty old bastard that should keep his thoughts clean and hands to himself. Hell he was more than likely projecting his own feelings on her. If he was being honest with himself, at that bank, he hadn't picked her because she had the most fight. It was because he wanted to touch her, if only for a moment. She was the kind of girl that he learned to avoid. They weren't born for the likes of him, not like the weather worn women that he had bedded in the past. She was something beautiful, unattainable, and naturally he played a part in causing her pain. Everything he touched turned to shit, aside from their blue eyes, it was the only real quality that all of the Dixon men shared.

They had finally reached a piece of land that he recognized. They were less than half a mile from Merle's safe house. Daryl and his brother were supposed to meet up with the contact that had tipped them off about the bank. He could collect his bike, throw Beth out on a busy road and put this whole episode behind them. However, as desperate as he was to get the girl home and far away from him, his brain was relentlessly trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Merle, the bank, Joe, the cop and somehow Beth Greene.

Beth and Daryl walked up to a broken down old shack. She took a deep breath and followed close behind him. Watching closely, Beth saw Daryl pry up one of the few rocks that littered the ground and grab the key. When he looked her way, she rolled her eyes, causing him to smirk and nod his head, as if to acknowledge the fruitlessness of locking the beat up hovel. She had never seen a place quite like this. Its decor was sparse, no fridge, no stove, nothing really. It had a ripped up couch that had been covered over with two or three mexican style blankets. There was an unpleasant scent that she associated with mold and the sickly sweet smell of rotting foliage. Under all of that, there was an even smaller hint of stale beer and cigarette smoke. It turned her stomach. Home sweet home she thought and dramatically sank down on the couch, causing a few bugs to skitter away.

Daryl looked her over. She had small leaves and twigs in her golden mane and the woods had done it's damnedest to take her clothes. His eyes traveled over a large rip in the breast of her shirt, revealing the pink fabric of a lacy bra. He colored and looked away, walking to the corner of the room, he dug through a large duffle bag and pulled out a gray cotton shirt. He tossed it over the couch and into her lap. Beth looked down at her clothes and the dawning of recognition made her blush. Her ripped blouse revealed more of her than even she cared to see. Clearing her throat to signal her intent, she began to pull the ruined shirt over her head. Stale sweat and sticky tree sap caused it to cling to her skin. She struggled slightly before lifting it over her head and throwing it in a corner that was already occupied by trash.

When she began to undress, Daryl's gaze lingered for just a moment, watching her toned muscles roll and twist under the pale skin of her back, until he felt his cheeks flush as his body react to the brief glimpse of flesh. Quickly, he turned around to give her some more privacy. Digging down further into the bag, he was able to find deer jerky and a bottle of water. He tore into a piece before throwing the rest in her direction.

"Merle's guy should be here. Must be layin' low. We's in the woods too long and they lit out, but they'll be back." Daryl cut his eyes in Beth's direction, watching her attempt to tear off a sizable piece of jerky. Some of it was dangling from her mouth and down her chin. She glared at him for his frank amusement, causing him to shrug and flop down in the corner to sleep.

Beth had fallen asleep on the couch. She had a crick in her neck, but that wasn't what had caused her to wake up. At first, she thought she had imagined the knocking, but when it persisted her heart started to pound. Daryl hadn't stirred, obviously too tired to react. She quietly tip-toed to corner he had stuffed himself into. Gently, she pushed a finger into his shoulder, only to receive a grunt in return. She did it again with a little more force.

"Fuck off Merle." The person a the door continued to knock. She placed an open palm on his shoulder and shook. She must have startled him because the next thing she knew, she was on her back looking up at his face. She felt blood trickling from her split lip, placing her hand to her mouth, she tried to sit up and push her assailant off of her. He stayed planted firmly on top of her, his weight pushing her into the dirty floor of the cabin. He placed a finger to his lips, warning her into silence. He put a knee between her legs, framing her arms with his, to give him the leverage he needed to push his body up. Moving silently to the door, he placed his ear to the wall beside the door and listened. After a brief exchange, he opened it up and let the person outside come into the shack. All the while, Beth remained stead fast on the floor. Beth felt a hand touch her face. Curious, she turned her head only to be greeted by Carol.

"He do this to you?" Carol looked at Daryl accusingly. He put his hands up in defense.

"S'not like I meant to. Might of got her with my head on the way up."

"You don't sound too apologetic." Daryl shrugged his shoulders and cursed her under his breath. Carol turned back towards Beth and probed at the cut on her mouth.

"We'll take care of that once we get to somewhere a little more sterile." She took in Beth's quizzical look and smiled.

"What are you doing here?..No wait, you aren't Merle's guy, are you?" She paused briefly, looking for Carol to clarify. When she stayed silent, Beth felt obliged to continue. "But, did you know him before the bank or meet him later?" Beth felt a pang in her chest. Her brain was working in overdrive. Although her face hurt something fierce, she worried her lip between her teeth in confusion.

"I'm sorry honey. We were running a con and you were just so sweet, being sweet makes you vulnerable. But I didn't mean for them to take you. I like you, liked you from the moment I started hustling you. Even asked Merle if we could think of another way, but there just wasn't any." Carol held Beth's chin up with her hand. She could see the look of betrayal in Beth's eyes and felt it deep.

"So you used me to get inside the bank..So you could rob it?..Milton died. He died Carol and you used me to put that in motion." Beth slapped a hand over her eyes to hide the tears that had sprung up.

Seeing her distress, Daryl walked up and gestured for Carol to go outside. When she had left the shack, he sat down next to her. They were silent, taking a moment to let everything sink in. After shaking off the initial surprise and hurt, she stood up and marched purposefully outside. Daryl followed close behind, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

Beth was silent in the car, ignoring the hushed conversation going on around her. she also ignored Daryl's glances in her direction. She was done with both of them. Once again, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. When she had met Carol at Terminus, she had liked her instantly. She had been going that night to see her friend Gareth, a boy that she had met at an AA/NA combined meeting. Her daddy still attended them occasionally, taking his bible to pray over lost souls hoping to repent. After the meeting, he had sought her out. Her daddy hadn't approved so she was having to sneak around, going places that she knew her daddy wouldn't enter. Hershel couldn't produce a good enough reason, in her opinion, for her not to see him, stating only that something wasn't quite right about him. Naturally, they had gone round and round about the issue.

She hadn't seen Gareth, and was determined to stay until she could locate him. Preoccupied with sending him a text, she almost overlooked Carol standing against a wall near the pool tables. Two very large men surrounded her. Beth was moments from calling the police before she saw Carol throw a well aimed knee into one of their groins. Before the other could react, she had her pool stick crashing over his head. Later that night, as Beth was sitting at the bar, nursing a Virgin Mary and worrying that Gareth had started using again, disappearing like he did from time to time, Carol came and sat next to her. Her pixie cut hair caught the bar light, making her look years younger. They had started up a conversation and the rest was history.

Beth paused a moment, recalling the appearance of Carol's attackers before eyeing Daryl suspiciously.

* * *

They walked inside of Carol's modest two bedroom home. Little touches here and there hinted that a young girl lived with her, although she was not currently present. It occurred to Beth how little she had actually known about Carol. The woman had never mentioned that she had a daughter. Beth eyed several crude pictures of bright flowers painted with fingers, feeling a rush of sadness, she sought out a place to sit down.

Carol navigated them towards a couch and love seat. They were covered with vibrant pillows done up in different prints and colors. Under any other circumstance, Beth would have thought they were beautiful. She sat firmly on the love seat and crossed her arms around her small torso, hugging herself for support. There was a whir of motion as Daryl sat down on the wooden coffee table in front of her. Their legs were not quite close enough to touch, but she could feel his presence. Solid and reassuring. Putting her head into her hands, her body convulsed as she began to sob. Daryl placed a rough hand on her exposed arm. He left it there only briefly, but long enough to help the sobbing subside. It had been too long since she had a reassuring touch. She looked through bleary eyes at the man in front of her. There had been a shift in their relationship and she wasn't entirely sure when it had happened. He looked back at her sheepishly, as if thinking the same thing. He took his thumb into his mouth he chewed haphazardly at the cuticle.

They could hear Carol buzzing around in the background, occasionally she would slam something and grunt out a swear. From what Beth could gather, things had not gone according to plan. Of course, that was pretty obvious. Her and Daryl sat across from each other, suspended in time. Occasionally, she would glance from her folded hands to Daryl's face. He was staring at her openly, as if puzzling something out.

It wasn't until they heard Carol's startled yelp that they rose from their places. Daryl grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him. Raising a finger to his lips, he gave her the universal sign for silence. She nodded briefly and followed behind him, grasping the tail of his battered flannel shirt. They turned the corner and was greeted by the barrel of a gun. The guy who had replaced Merle was looking at them with a crooked smile. Carol's eyes widened only briefly before she readopted her cool demeanor. This was a situation she'd obviously been in before. Beth felt her stomach twinge, as the tears pricked her eyes once more.

"Now Daryl, I'll be needing my hostage back. She's been claimed already." The man trained his gun at Daryl's head. Beth's grasp tightened on his shirt and she pressed her body closer to his, putting her forehead gently against his back. He felt her sigh against his shirt, as if reaching a resolution. She stepped from behind him, even as he was reaching to stop her.

"Beth, don't." She looked at Daryl sympathetically before turning to look at the gun.

"I'm not your responsibility anymore, never was." She raised her hands as if in surrender. "How did you find us?"

Joe chuckled softly, "Followed you from the cabin. Almost lost ya crossing the river, but with that bum leg of his." His speech trailed off and he gestured for her to come to him.

As Beth stepped closer, steeling herself for her fate, several things happened in rapid succession. Joe had taken his eyes off of Carol, not believing her to be a threat. As he was looking away, Carol picked up a decorative vase and crashed it over his head. Seeing his chance, Daryl barreled forward and into Joe's lax figure, knocking the gun out of his grasp and towards Carol. She scrambled to get to it and slammed the stock against Joe's temple, successfully knocking him unconscious. Beth eyed his prone body with surprise before Carol grabbed her by the hands and drug her towards the door outside, pausing to grab keys from the rack.

"I got Marla from the cabin." She tossed Merle's keys to Daryl and gestured to the side of the house. With Beth's help, they removed a large tarp to reveal a two-toned, rusted blue pickup truck.

Before Carol could back out of the driveway, Daryl yelled out to her.

"He alive?"

She looked at him, sadness in her eyes. "Don't know." Then she backed out and was gone. Daryl and Beth trailed in her wake before turning opposite directions at a stop sign.


	6. Chapter 6

Maggie and Hershel Greene were sitting around the kitchen table, both wearing identical expressions of concern and exhaustion. It had been several days since they had reached out to their friends and close relations, desperate for any sighting or information that they could get. They hadn't had any luck and Maggie was starting to have dark thoughts, thoughts that maybe she would never see her younger sister again. Her mind going back and forth from desperation to hopefulness. Hope only emerging because she knew her sister would want it that way, that Beth would never lose hope or stop looking if the situation had been reversed. They listened languidly as the first few drops of a summer storm hit the roof. The sky had been darkening for some time, but the two just sat motionless at the table, lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until she heard the braying of the horses that Maggie decided to get up and make a hand. She left her father, lost in silent contemplation, grabbed a rain slicker at the rack by the open door and left through the screen. She hurried through the rapidly increasing rain to get to the barn. She was in the middle of mucking the last stall when she heard a car door slam. Figuring that it was another person come to offer their condolences, she went back to the task at hand.

She wiped her hands on her jeans as she neared the house. Maggie had always had a quiet tread, even as a child she could sneak around unheard. That had been how she had found out that her mother was dying of cancer. As she skulked towards the screen door, Maggie could hear an elevated voice in the kitchen. She looked over at the car, an unmarked police car. Her heart rate quickened as she stood next to the window and listened in.

"Now, my boys been looking for her and the cops been looking for her and nobody's found her yet, which leads me to believe that maybe you know more than what your sayin'. If you do, I suggest you tell me or maybe somethin' happens to your other daughter too." Maggie could hear the man pacing the wooden boards in the kitchen, they groaned in protest from the abuse of his agitated gait.

She silently pulled open the screen door, cringing at the squeak caused by the aging hardware. She could hear her father pause and then continue quickly as to cover her tracks. She moved closer, concealed by a small stretch of hallway that lead to the kitchen and master bedroom.

"There ain't any call for that son, please put that away. Whatever you've gotten yourself into, I'm sure Rick will understand." He paused when his appeals went unanswered, "I'm all Maggie's got left." Hershel talked soothingly to the stranger, like he would a skittish horse. Not one to beg for his life, he changed his tactics. "You won't get away with it."

Maggie heard the man pull back the hammer of his gun, the ominous clicking noise signaled that it was now deadly and ready to use.

Maggie yelled a strangled 'no' and jumped into the kitchen right as the man pulled the trigger. She watched in horror as the bullet blew away her father's face, his eyes startled but kind all the way up until impact. Officer Shane Walsh had trained his gun on her. As he went to pull his trigger a second time, Maggie rammed her body into his. He hadn't expected her to move so quickly right after seeing her father shot to death. He lost his gun during the impact, but as he moved to fight her off, she disentangled herself from his prone body and took off towards the door, intent on escape. He managed to grab one of her lean, jean covered legs. He wrenched it hard, causing her face to make contact with the wooden planks of the kitchen floor.

Maggie could hear a sickly snap and felt her eyes begin to water, but all she could think about was escape. Adrenaline flooded her system and she sent her free leg back into Shane's skull. He let her leg go long enough for her to get off of the ground and dash towards the door. She heard a bullet fire and the wall behind her exploded, she was briefly showered with glass from a wrecked picture frame, a near miss. Once she hit the porch, she doubled over and lost the contents of her stomach. Recovering quickly, she ran out behind the house, through the fields, weaving in and out of cattle for cover. She made it to the edge of the woods and could hear Officer Walsh shouting, but didn't stop to listen. She dissolved into the trees and left her childhood house behind.

She ran through the trees, sobbing, as branches caught her milky skin, leaving trails of crimson down her arms, neck and face. Her nose was swelling rapidly and snot mixed with the blood still cascading in rivulets down her bruised face. She stopped and lifted her hand to it, squeezed and forced the cartilage back into place. Bending over, the rest of her meager breakfast landed on her dirty boots. Maggie fell back on her butt and buried her head under hands, crying. They didn't have Beth. The thought burned white-hot, giving her a renewed sense of hope. They had been lying the entire time, trying to extort money from them, and Beth wasn't even their hostage. She must have escaped. Maggie took a few deep soothing breaths, the ache in her heart had not lessened, but this newest revelation gave her a reason to survive the night. The storm had ceased and darkness had fallen around her. She had left without a phone, food or flashlight. Standing back up, she strode purposefully through the woods.

* * *

Rick Grimes looked around the Greene home. A bullet had found its way through a family photo in the hallway, the screen door had been wrenched from the hinges. He wandered into the kitchen and took in the scene. Hershel Green lay motionless on the floor, blood pooling underneath his ruined head. Rick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath through his mouth, he opened his eyes and assessed the rest of the area. There was an incongruous spot of blood on the floor, likely belonging to another person, coupled with the gunshot hole in the wall, he assumed that Maggie had walked in on the crime. The vomit on the porch and footsteps leading away from the house likely belonged to her. By the looks of it, the assailant hadn't pursued her. He tracked the larger prints back to the place that he assumed the assailant had parked their vehicle. The person had tried to take countermeasures to erase the prints, but had obviously been in a hurry. He motioned for a tech to take pictures of the footprints and tire tread.

"I need somebody to look for the casings, only two shots fired and both from the kitchen. Try to pull the slug out of the sheetrock please. Has anybody seen Shane?" Rick looked at the people buzzing around the scene.

"Was called to a 10-31 across town." The tech quickly went back to work, head down and eyes forward like the rest.

The ME rolled Hershel's body through the busted screen door and Rick helped him get the gurney down the stairs. He could see the blood soaking through the white sheet covering his face and felt an undefinable sense of loss. It overwhelmed him for a moment before he was able to regain composure and ask the appropriate questions.

"Can you estimate time of death for me?" Rick looked Tyreese in the face.

"I'd say between three to four hours, judging by the state of rigor mortis. I obviously can't confirm that this is Hershel Greene, but I think we can both safely assume that it is." Tyreese finished loading the body and turned to face Rick.

The larger man placed a hand on Rick's shoulder and nodded before turning and getting into his vehicle. Rick watched as he drove away from the scene. His head was bowed. Getting into his car, he left the farm and drove quickly down the road. He could hear his phone vibrating, he flipped it over and read the name. RIck Grimes had a hunch. Pushing decline, he flipped through his contacts and hit the call button. It rang three times before he could hear his partner's voice on the other line.

"Hey man, what's the news." Hearing Shane's voice made him tense. He was going to have to play this close to the vest.

"We found Maggie Greene in the woods, she's dehydrated but alive. We're taking her into custody for the murder of Hershel Greene. She hasn't said anything yet, but she will. They always do." Rick waited for his partner to say something, hoping that he would be able to draw him out.

"What makes you think she acted alone?" Rick smiled at the phone

"Just a hunch, I'll be back to the station later." Rick hung up the phone and placed a call to the tech leading the crime scene at the Greene farm. "If anybody asks, we found Maggie Greene and I don't care who asks, we say we found her, understand? Good, finish processing the scene before the reporters catch wind." Rick put his phone back down, his screen read 'one missed call from Lori.'

* * *

Rick stared down at his John Doe. The man had been sleeping soundly, still too beat up to be taken in for questioning. He loudly scooted his chair close to the bed and cleared his throat. John Doe opened his eye and rotated his head towards the sound.

"Officer Friendly."

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I feel obliged to tell you that my partner will be here in an hour to print you. It seems that you didn't do such a thorough job trying to file them off. If you're in the system, won't take long to get that information back. Now normally, I wouldn't be obstructing an investigation, that I happen to believe you have intimate knowledge of, but since it'll really ruin my partner's day and since I might be needing you're help later, I think it's time you make your exit." Rick silently left the room and exited down the steps. Once in his car, he unlocked his phone and made a quick call.

He had been sitting at his desk, waiting, for over an hour. He was starting doubt his suspicions until he heard Amy shouting in the other room. Moving quickly, he picked up the phone offered to him. Making a small sound to acknowledge the person on the other line, he flipped open a notebook that he kept in his pocket and waited.

"Well hello again officer." Joe sounded haggard, his voice strangled and breathing pained, as if he had been in a tussle recently. The thought made Rick smile.

"Joe. Is there something I can help you with."

"In fact there is, I'd like to make a trade. My men saw you take the other Greene girl into the station and I's thinkin' I like brunettes better than blondes..." Joe dropped off, as if no longer interested in continuing the train of thought. Rick stopped scratching his pen against the notebook. His hunch had paid off in a really big way.

"As I'm sure you know, I can't make a trade like that for a whole bunch of really good laws and regulations. I can still get you your ransom, but there's no way that I can trade you hostages." Rick sat at the edge of Amy's desk, waiting for a response.

"That's a shame really. Guess I'm just gonna have to teach ya, teach ya all the way." The line went dead and Rick handed the phone back to Amy.

He looked around and once again, Shane was absent. He was, at this moment, discovering that John Doe had made a break for it. He believed firmly that Joe wouldn't be asking for Maggie if she didn't know anything. It hadn't been 30 minutes after he talked to Shane, that Joe had called. Unless it was one of the techs at the scene, Rick had his man. Now he just had to figure out how to get a confession.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's note: I didn't have time to do too much editing on this chapter, sorry. Hopefully it is just the right amount of confusing. **_

Beth slumped against the truck door, head resting against the window. She watched as little puffs of breath caused the window to fog. Lifting her delicate finger to the window, she used it to swirl small patterns into the condensation. She could feel the last few days straight down to her soul, exhaling, she turned her eyes towards Daryl, watching him navigate the truck onto the highway. The scenery soon melted around them in a puddle of greens and brown

"Where are we going?" Her voice startled him. He spared her a glance before shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Don' know, any requests." Daryl focused forward, keeping his eyes on the road. His muscles were tight as he grasped the wheel, obviously hurt by being so close to something that Merle had loved. Beth extended her hand and placed it gently beside him, not touching him but close enough. He looked at it and his lips lifted briefly before he regained his stony expression.

Beth felt like they had been driving aimlessly forever, but in reality it had only been ten or fifteen minutes since the episode in Carol's foyer. They had gotten lucky, again, and she was afraid that their luck would not hold up the next time. As if on cue, Beth could see the bleary flashing of red and blue lights mounted atop the dash of an unmarked police car. She turned her wide eyes at Daryl as he banged his fist against the wheel, letting loose a string of swears that almost caused her to blush. She smiled and shook her head. They couldn't catch a break.

"Just pull over, it might just be for a broken taillight or somethin'. Anyway, it won't do us any good to be involved in a high speed police chase, especially not in this." She gestured at the truck, disdaining its decrepit state. Daryl recalled having a similar conversation with his brother a couple of days ago and shook his head. He was glad he didn't do this kind of shit for a living, because it certainly wasn't turning out for him.

The sharp tapping of knuckles on the truck window brought back to reality, he looked over and watched as a cop made a circular motion with his fingers, signaling for him to roll down his window. Daryl obliged sullenly and felt a stab of anger as the officer leaned his head obtrusively close to his own.

"I'm sorry to bother you man, but there was a robbery few days ago and a truck matchin' this description was involved. Could you and the girl please exit the vehicle and come to this side here." The cop smiled at him. His badge read Walsh.

Daryl and Beth stepped out and she met him on the other side of the truck. Officer Walsh eyed them speculatively and requested their identification. Daryl pulled out a beat-up leather wallet and surrendered his ID. When he reached Beth, she shrugged her shoulders and explained that she had lost her purse. Daryl knew that something was amiss. Years of trying to anticipate his old man's moods had taught him how to read people. The cop carried tension in his shoulders, as if waiting for the two of them to bolt. As the cop left, under the pretense of running the license provided to him, Daryl eyed Beth from the side, trying to get her attention. However, she was stubbornly keeping her eyes forward. He even tried to softly clear his throat, desperate to get her attention. As the sound moved through his slightly parted lips, the cop returned with a vengeance, gun trained on Daryl. An ominous click caused Daryl to tense, moving his body closer to Beth's. Officer Walsh was unaffected by the gesture as he tossed over two pair of cuffs, and instructed Beth and Daryl to put their hands behind their backs and do them up right.

Now they were sitting in the back, driving down a winding road. They were shoulder to shoulder and she could feel Daryl shaking with rage. She scooted infinitesimally closer. Her presence grounding him. The shrill cry of a phone caused goosebumps to erupt over Beth's arms. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. The officer looked in the rearview mirror, catching their eyes.

"Don't make a sound, either of you, or I'll kill one of you while the other one watches." His eyes narrowed and Beth nodded her head in understanding. Taking this as affirmation from the both of them, he pulled his phone out of his front pocket and answered.

"Hey man, what's the news." Beth could vaguely hear a voice on the other line. She heard her sister's name, and a strangled sob crossed her lips, only to be cut off by Daryl's rough palm clamping tightly over her mouth.

Daryl could feel her tears running down his hand, her body shaking in desperation. He moved the thumb of his other hand gently under her eyes, trying to dry her tears. When she did not respond to the gesture, he took her hair in his hands, smoothing it down and running his fingers over it in silent reverence. Inclining his head, he placed a small kiss to her cheek. When he pulled back, he could feel the wetness of her tears on his lips. Reflexively, his tongue glided over his lower lip, drawing in and tasting the saltiness of her tears. Beth's eyes remained forward, trying to divine any clue of her sister's fate.

"What makes you think she acted alone?" Daryl could hear the relief in Officer Walsh's voice. By what he could gather, the crooked ass cop had just gotten away with something. He just hoped that it didn't have anything to do with Beth's sister.

Daryl removed his hand from Beth's mouth after the call had ended. He avoided her eyes by focusing on the passing trees, hoping to see a landmark that could alert him as to their whereabouts. Although he had a decent idea of where they could be, he wasn't entirely sure. He needed to be a hundred percent to get them out safe. Catching sight of a familiar sign, he braced himself as Officer Walsh took a sharp turn down a gravel road. He could hear the tires crunching against the ground as he picked up speed, determined to divest himself of the cargo currently occupying the back seat. As the tires slid on some loose gravel, causing the car to swerve, Daryl pushed his legs against the seat and held tight to Beth. She was no longer crying, only staring determinedly at the back of Walsh's head. Even as the car threw them around like rag dolls, her eyes remained stedfast. Daryl shuddered to think what kind of violent and terrible things she was harboring inside her pretty head.

The car began to slow, nearing its destination. Daryl watched as Walsh turned down a long, narrow drive. He could not yet see the house. It was covered by a thick swatch of trees and other foliage. He rotated his head and allowed his eyes to rest once again on the girl beside him. Startled blue eyes met his. He cocked his head in questioning and she inclined her head towards his, placing it on his shoulder in feign distress. Keeping his movements small, he finished the distance between them.

"I know where we are going." She whispered lightly in his ear. He urged her to continue by moving his hand to her knee and gently squeezing, but she remained silent. Her skin paling and brow furrowed with confusion.

Winding around the final curve in the driveway, the house finally came into view. Daryl cast a weary eye on the large antebellum plantation home. He could not imagine what horrors its insides held for them. Officer Walsh drove up to a piece of grass, flattened by the constant coming and going of car tires and put his vehicle into park. Cautiously, he opened the door and motioned with his gun for them to exit. His menacing aura kept them in check until Beth tripped on one of the porch steps leading up to the door. Daryl watched in anger as the cop grabbed her forearm and roughly dragged her up the steps, placing her firmly on her feet once they reached the top. Daryl glanced at her and then back at the expansive imported french door, most likely a feature added during a renovation. Flames leapt up beside them, cradled by gas burning lamps, one on each side of the entrance. They heard the click of a lock and the door swung open, revealing a large man that was primly dressed. Daryl recognized him instantly as the man from television. Senator Phillip Blake. Before he could open his mouth to speak, his world went black.

* * *

_Maggie had been wandering through the dark for what felt like hours, she had finally arrived at the road. Stepping cautiously from the trees, she let her feet carry her towards the pavement. Her skin ached from the scratches that littered her body. She walked along the roadside in silence, thinking about her father and sister. Darkness clung stubbornly to the ground, although there was evidence that the morning sun would soon rise. _

_She could see a pair of headlights winding slowly down the road. If it was her father's killer, she would not be able to escape a second time. However, her legs locked her in place, unwilling to move. As the car drew closer, she realized that she recognized it. The driver noticed her, slowing to a stop by her stiff form. She could hear the door open and the scraping of shoes on the road. A figure appeared around the front of the vehicle, scattering the beams of light cast by the headlights. She placed her hand loosely over her eyes, trying to see the familiar visage. He spoke first. _

"_You're Beth Greene's sister right? Maggie." She nodded her head in affirmation. He moved quickly to open the door for her. She could only imagine her state of dishabille, left behind by the marauding woods. As if reading her thoughts, he lifted his had as if to touch her. Maggie flenched, but the man lightly plucked a branch from her hair. _

"_I know we haven't officially met, but you've seen me drop Beth off at your house when your daddy was away." He smiled at her. She could see him more clearly since he had stepped away from the headlights. He extended his hand and she gripped it lightly before dropping her hand back to her side. _

"_My name is Gareth, it's nice to finally meet you." A shiver ran down her spine. He gestured for her to enter the car, as if sensing her hesitation, Gareth pushed her roughly inside, causing her to bang her head against the car's interior. The force of the impact made her dizzy and she could feel her eyes slipping closed as she drifted into sleep. _


	8. Chapter 8a

Tennessee State Police Chief Dale Horvath had called him early that morning. It was the second call he had received that day, the first from his escaped John Doe. It had been a very enlightening conversation. As he already suspected, Shane had set up the bank job personally. He had been trying wrap his head around that when the phone rang for a second time. According to Dale, they had run across a scene that might possibly be related to his case. As Rick surveyed the scene around him, he could tell that Dale had been right. Rick's men had been unable to process the site; however, Dale invited him and Andrea to set in on the investigation. She and Tyreese had drawn straws, neither wanting to travel that far out.

As he looked over her sour expression, and the corners of his mouth lifted. It immediately faded as he stepped into the kill house. Four corpses were lined up, side-by-side, on the floor. The heat had bloated their bodies, causing the skin to pucker and fold in grotesque ways. If the sight hadn't been enough to give him nightmares, the smell that battered his senses certainly would. Reflexively, he placed a hand over his nose to keep the stench at bay. Having pity on him, Andrea handed him a jar of Vicks with a smile.

"It helps mask the smell." Years of processing crime scenes had given her first hand knowledge that someone like him wouldn't be able to stomach the smell. He took the jar gratefully and followed her lead, placing a sizable amount underneath each nostril. She informed him that it was the first time that she had used anything like it since medical school. Hovering behind, he watched closely as she pulled on a pair of white latex gloves and bent to complete the examination.

"There is an arterial knick here, like he was jabbed with a slender, smooth edged object. Couldn't have been a knife because the skin was torn and not cut. Somebody pulled it out, obviously, because neither the instrument or blood is present at the scene. Cause of death..." She paused briefly in her analysis. "Gunshot wound to the head."

Andrea drug a gloved finger around the bullet hole before moving to examine the next body. "This one here has a broken leg, judging by the fracture pattern, I'd say inflicted by a downward thrust. Cause of death was also a gunshot wound to the head. If I had to guess, I would say that all of these victims were shot by the same caliber weapon, likely the same perp."

She raised herself from the ground and removed her gloves with a snap. "Four bodies, that means you're still missing four suspects." She looked around the corner to find another body lying on the floor, a large hunting knife was protruding from his skull. "Sorry, didn't see that one. Missing three men."

Somebody called out behind them and Rick to the opportunity to scramble quickly out of the cabin.

"Jim found some tracks leading into the woods."

Rick followed the police officer around to what he assumed was the bathroom window. Looking down, he could see a large set of prints. When he bent down closer to examine the tracks, he realized that they were covering a second smaller set of tracks. He followed them into the woods. He hadn't been in the trees long before Jim pointed out a jumble of tracks in the dirt. Just visible under a fern, he spied a nail file sitting on discolored earth. He pointed it out and watched as one of the techs snapped a few pictures and then bagged the instrument. He continued on the path, but quickly lost sight of the trail. Officer Jim continued on the path and Rick followed quietly behind him.

"Looks like there was a struggle here. Got smaller tracks here, I think those are your hostage. If you go further into the woods, you can see evidence of a gun fight. Bark scattered all over the place. Then a little further that way," Jim pointed into the distance, "There was a pretty serious fight. Someone got injured bad, had to drag himself some distance. Blood trail over there. I think somebody shot him and dragged him all the way back to the cabin." Rick shook his head and urged him to continue. "I lose 'em across the river. I think that they were chasin' her and somebody else. The big tracks are in the front. I'd say whoever it was came out of the bathroom behind her." Rick nodded his head and walked back through the woods toward the cabin.

Rick emerged, boots heavy with dirt and mud. Standing still, he eyed the scene one more time. He noticed right off that someone had driven up while he was in the trees. They had parked a small black car under a tree near the door. His face flushed in anger and he walked towards it to reprimand the driver. When he got to the window, he realized the car was empty. Turning his head from side to side, he looked around for the offender.

"Whoever is drivin' this car, needs to get it outta here. Could be destroying forensic evidence." The techs all stopped to look at Rick. After realizing that he had no authority over them, they went quietly back to work.

"They've destroyed most of it already, lucky for you I came down earlier to take a look." Rick jumped, startled by a familiar but disembodied voice. He looked around, finally locating its source. Michonne stood a little ways in the woods, contemplative look gracing her elegant but stern features. She closed the distance between her and Rick.

"Dale called me first. I suggested that he might want you here." She paused for a moment and wiped her hands against her pants. "Lots of boot prints. Eight sets, one for each robber and a smaller set for the hostage. You have to really pay attention to see it. They're so damn jumbled. Then there is one more large set of prints and one more small set of prints. Eleven sets in total. Seems odd doesn't it." Rick looked at her and scratched his head, using his other hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun.

"A little. What are you thinkin'?"

"Oh, I think that the robbery was a coverup for something much much bigger. They managed to get what, maybe eight thousand from the bank. Not a lot of money to go around." Rick looked at her and nodded his head, taking one hand and lightly scratching the scruff that was starting to grow wild on his chin.

"Okay, I'll bite. Why even rob the bank?"

"It could have been for the ransom." She waited for Rick to say something. When he remained silent, she continued. "But it seems like the bank is the farthest, money changing, establishment from the police station. I think the robbery was a ruse to pull your resources away from something else. That probably explains the ninth set of men's boots. Someone killed these men to tie up loose ends. I was going over the evidence you guys collected from the Greene farm, those boot prints match the mystery prints at that scene." She looked at Rick with a smile on her face. "I'm glad you called, Rick."

A tech walked close by and she snagged his sleeve. "You're missing a vehicle. Blue, two-toned truck. It will have a female driver, if she hasn't already disposed of it." After she let him go, she turned back to Rick and shrugged.

"There are two sets of small prints. The hostage didn't escape in the truck so someone else must have come to get it."

"I'm glad I called too. Let's get back to the office, we can talk more about it there. Who let you look at the case file?"

"Little blond girl named Amy. It's amazing what you can accomplish with a badge."

The ride back was filled with companionable silence. He hadn't seen Michonne since they had investigated the last of the dead girls. A hunter had gone out early and tripped over her body. Forensics hadn't been able to pull very much from her, she had been exposed to the elements for a week or more. Much like the other girls, the body had been redressed and posed. It didn't take long for the FBI to catch wind. He was grateful for their help, feeling that he hadn't been equipped to deal with the situation. He could remember that night in the morgue, after Andrea had gone, he had been staring at the girl on the slab. Her delicate visage was strangely peaceful. Tears had been leaking freely down his face, but he hadn't been concerned. As far as he knew, he was the only one left in that part of the building. The clearing of a throat caught his attention and he was greeted by an FBI agent, one that he hadn't even heard enter the room. Her guarded expression told him nothing. After getting to know her better, he understood that the face he saw that night was a defense mechanism. She hid behind it to mask her real feelings, but it took many bleary eyed nights over terrible coffee to even begin to understand the things that made Michonne the person that she was. Peeling back the onion layer by layer had exposed an individual not too unlike himself.

* * *

Rick returned to his desk, hands side by side on the edges of his desk calendar. He was staring down at a folder that he had taken out earlier. It was so full of papers that it was beginning to bust out from the seams. Michonne had readopted a cool demeanor, one that he had come to associate with deep concentration. She was solving a puzzle. He waited for her to reach a conclusion.

"What have you got for me?" Michonne leaned closer to the desk and waited for his response. Instead of speaking, he bent down and drug a file box from under his desk. She dug her hand inside and pulled out several color coded folders and smiled. Rick was always very particular about how he liked his files done. It was the type of behavior that made him a fantastic leader, but most likely drove his wife insane. She flipped through a few pages before coming to a familiar name. Gareth.

"What is this?" She looked at him, waiting for his response.

"The name sounds familiar doesn't it. One of the witnesses said that the hostage sang at a bar. Terminus. I went there to track down some information and that's the name they gave me. Gareth. No last name." She drew her brows together and pursed her lips.

"He was one of our suspects. We liked him for the abductions. I'm surprised that you didn't remember." Rick's eyes widened. Everything that was going on at home with Lori had kept him preoccupied.

The entire case had been a mess. Moments after they had taken Gareth in for questioning, his brother had called in enough favors to get the charges dropped and keep it hushed. It ended up being a huge embarrassment for the department and Michonne was sent back to Virginia. She hadn't said anything, but he had it on good authority that she had been assigned to a desk. At the time, they felt like they'd had a pretty good case against Gareth, but lacked the physical evidence to convict. Now that Senator Blake was planning to run for governor, it would be close to impossible to haul him in for questioning. As if that was the least of their problems.

He had not yet revealed to anyone the nature of Shane's involvement. He had more now than just a hunch. With matching bootprints at both scenes, it was likely they had enough to convict him. Although, for the life of him he couldn't figure out a motive. His partner had gone from being outgoing to surly at best, but he wasn't a murderer. Something had brought him to this point and he wasn't sure what tactic he needed to draw Shane out. If Michonne was right, there was a whole conspiracy brewing and his friend was smack dab in the middle of it. He heard a voice and it drug him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, looking puzzled.

"I asked how Lori was doing." He suddenly glanced at the closed door. Without a sound, he stood up and glided past her. He could hear her talking as he exited the room, but didn't pause to try and make it out. His partner was standing in the entrance, talking animatedly with Bob, the rookie. Grabbing Shane's arm, he leaned in close.

"We got somewhere to go." His partner looked startled, but followed him through the door.

_Author's Note: So the first half of this chapter was what happened in the beginning, except through the eyes of the investigation. Since there has been a gap between chapters, I'll give kind of a short recap. Carol did go get the blue truck from the cabin and those are her prints that Michonne found. At this point, Rick knows that Shane is guilty of something, but still hasn't confronted him. _

_There are only a few chapters left so it's going to get pretty action packed. Hopefully some of your lingering questions will be answered. As it has been almost two weeks, I'm going to post two chapters. _


	9. Chapter 8b

_Author's note: I'm not sure what you guys will consider intense, but this chapter has suicide and murder. _

Daryl woke up inside a barn. "Fuck, sonofabitch, goddamn it." He muttered to himself. Daryl was done with helping people. Over the past couple of days, he had been bashed into unconsciousness, shot in the head, and threatened more times than he could count, not to mention twisting his damn ankle. His arms ached, his back ached and goddamn it if he didn't have the worst case of dry mouth that had ever plagued him. He meditated on all of the aches and pains as the blackness was slowly receding from his vision.

He could feel ropes digging into his arms, and knew that he had been tied to something. His legs were just dangling. His body was stiff, as all of his muscles protested the abuse. He didn't know how long he had been there, as his sight slowly sharpened, he surveyed the area. The barn was large with a double door entryway and a large loft, which was supported by lower hanging beams. A hook had been screwed into one of the beams, probably placed for deer carcasses, Daryl mused. Or maybe not, since he was currently dangling from it, arms painfully extended over his head. His body was at least three feet from the closest crossbeam. If he kicked his legs hard enough, he could rotate just enough to see the back entrance of the barn. Each time, he twisted his body, the ropes bit into his wrists. He could feel wet, copper scented drops hitting his face.

Somebody had built makeshift stables in the two back corners. He could not tell what kind of animal was being kept in them, but he could hear it moving around. Although the sound was muffled, he could hear low key moaning. Whatever it was, was most definitely on its last leg. The smell was terrible, even from where he was hanging. After the third time looking towards the back door, he allowed his body to spin to a resting position, eyes forward and waiting.

His face was hot and flushed. Beads of sweat were running into his eyes. Burning them. Daryl couldn't see them leaving this place. He almost knew that they wouldn't. Somehow the bank robbery had been connected to Senator Blake. Officer Walsh was obviously his pawn and he could finally place Beth's part in all of it. She had been conned by Carol and was swept up entirely by chance. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to putting the puzzle together. His head throbbed, pulsing with the added strain of the blistering day.

It wasn't long before Senator Phillip Blake pulled open the door and strode languidly inside and looked him over with a smile.

"There anything I can get you, make your stay a little easier?" After a string of curses from Daryl, the senator's smile slipped just a little. "You can see why I had to tie you up. I couldn't afford to leave so many loose ends. My brother included. I've always loved him, but he never could control his baser instincts."

"What's yer brother got to do with anything." Daryl narrowed his eyes at the looming figure in front of him."

"Suppose you've heard about all them girls poppin up around the county?" He waited a beat before continuing. "Caught him mutilatin' cats when he was small. Liked to hide 'em in this old junk yard a few miles from the house." Daryl interrupted his recollections.

"What in the hell does any of that got to do with me and Beth?"

"You seen any of the girls?" Daryl shook his head in the negative. This caused Phillip to smile broadly. "They all look strikingly like little Beth Greene."

Daryl's eyes widen slightly before he was able to regain his composure. Maybe she wasn't swept up by chance after all. He had heard things about the case, picking up a newspaper from time to time.

"He started up right after meetin' 'er. Bumped into her at an AA meeting. Her daddy was a drinker. Gareth told me that the old man brought his bible to every meetin', hopin' to save some lost souls like his. And Beth, well sweet girl thought she could make a difference. Gareth liked to go to meetings, said it helped to control the urges. He'd cut up some whores before, nothin' that couldn't be covered up by knowin' the right people."

He paused dramatically, watching Daryl hang on every word. "Since Beth has been singin' for him, he's laid off the killing, but I don't imagine it'll last too long. I guess he loved her in his own way. Only way someone with such an affliction could."

"Where is Gareth now?" Daryl asked, frightened that he had finally gotten the object of his obsession.

"He's become a lovely ornament in the pond." Daryl closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath of relief. He could hear the cicadas. Letting the heat inside the barn wash over him, he took a deep unsteady breath before opening his eyes again.

"What are you gonna do with 'er?"

"Oh, I imagine she'll end up right next to Gareth. It's what he wanted after all. To be with Beth." As Phillip stepped closer.

Daryl swung his leg out, trying to use the momentum to propel him far enough to land a blow. He succeeded only in tearing the flesh of his wrists. Phillip smiled once more and walked out of the barn, promptly closing the door behind him with an audible bang.

* * *

Rick stepped out of his car and looked out across the field. The golden grasses glistened in the sunlight. The wind blew lightly around him, as the grass swished and swayed he was lost for a moment. He could remember taking his wife here, before they had gotten married. He was so nervous that he dropped their picnic basket, causing it to fall open. Their sandwiches had hit the ground, but Lori had adeptly wrapped them and were unaffected by the fall.

She lightly put her hand on his arm. To this day, he could remember the smile that she had given him. It was full of love and promise that came from two people's mutual respect and understanding. Things had changed so much since that day. He allowed his partner's voice to bring him back and he abandoned his previous thoughts.

"Why are we here?" Rick looked Shane, feeling the lines in his face deepen as he frowned.

"This is where I proposed to Lori." He paused as if enjoying another wave of nostalgia. "I know you're sleepin' with her."

Shane's face paled for a moment, but otherwise remained unchanged. When he didn't say anything, Rick continued.

"But you know why we're really out here." Rick reached down to pluck a piece of grass. Misinterpreting his intentions, Shane drew his weapon and pointed it a Rick. Upon seeing Shane's face, the emptiness in his eyes, Rick snapped open his holster and drew his weapon too. The grass licked their boots as they stood motionless, looking each other in the eyes. Rick continued with his earlier thoughts.

"I've just got all these questions, stuff, things that I can't figure out. Why the robbery? Why Hershel?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen." Rick could tell by the look on his face that they were no longer talking about the bank job or about Hershel. It suggested that Rick would soon be introduced the root of the problem. He motioned for Shane to continue the story and he continued after a beat.

"I started takin' money. In exchange, I'd plant evidence. Mostly drugs on lowlifes. I mean hell, they'd go to jail shortly anyway."

Rick didn't believe his justification for a moment, but he didn't interrupt. Shane continued. "Then he wanted me to steal some evidence from the locker. Use the robbery to distract people."

"Evidence from what case." Rick cut in.

"The serial murders." Shane was about to continue when Rick interrupted him again.

"You can't just steal evidence. It's cataloged in a database. Hell it's not just in our database, it's in the FBI's too. Stealing physical evidence is useless...but you knew that didn't you. Then why?"

"Get 'em off my back."

"That's a far cry from murder. Why Hershel and the five other men we found at the cabin?" Shane's face ran a range of emotions before finally settling on despair.

"Lori...she's pregnant." Rick paled

"What does she have to do with..." He trailed off. Finally, he understood. They had threatened Lori. "You need to put down the gun."

"You know I ain't lettin' you take me in." Shane raised his gun, and suddenly Rick could see it. It had been in front of him the whole time.

Shane knew he was going to get caught, knew it the second he pulled the trigger on Hershel. He was never going to go in alive. Suicide by cop. His friend, a man he had once called brother, was going to make him pull the trigger. His heart pounded in his ears. He tipped his gun up and dropped it to the ground.

"I ain't gonna do it Shane." Shane paced through the grass, causing a violent swishing sound that followed in his wake. He put his hands up to his head and started to pound them against his face, over and over, as if working up to something. Then he stilled. Looking over at Rick, his face was placid as he dropped his gun and charged.

It wasn't like people thought, the world didn't slow down. It sped up. Before Shane could get to him, he reached down and pulled a knife from his pocket. His son had gotten it for him for father's day. It was a real pretty thing with mother of pearl laid into the handle. He had never used it, but he always carried it. He deftly flipped the blade open just as Shane's body collided with his own. He hadn't meant for it to go in, but the weight of Shane's body on top of him caused his friend to skewer himself. The blade was pushed in deep and Rick could feel blood trickling down his hand and soaking his shirt.

He heard a tiny sob escape his friend. Rick took his shaking hands from the blade, and wrapped his arms tightly around Shane. He thought he was dead until he felt him take a large shuddering breath. Using all the energy that he had left, Shane uttered his last words to his friend and partner.

"Phillip Blake."

Rick felt tears rolling down his cheek. He knew the moment that life finally left Shane. He lay there in the grass, clutching the body close to his chest and silently said his goodbyes. After what seemed like an eternity, Rick pushed the body away and walked to his car to call for help. He pulled the radio to his lips and slid down, back against the car.


	10. Chapter 9

Beth heard the screen slam for a second time. Footsteps pounded on the floor, leading down the hallway. They hesitated briefly and Beth could see a shadow caused by feet blocking the tiny sliver of light that slipped underneath the door. After a moment, they moved deliberately down the hall, each step causing Beth's heart to throb in her chest. She breathed out slowly, panic floating just beneath the surface. Beth strained against her bindings, testing for any weaknesses. When she reached her ankles, she rested her head against the floor, the hardwood felt good against her cheek.

Although Phillip had taped her hands together tight, he had gotten sloppy and taped her legs with her shoes still on. She said a silent prayer and toed her shoes off. After squirming against the duck tape, she had finally managed to work her bindings down. However, with each tick of the study's clock, panic threatened to overtake her. Finally, she managed to free her legs and shakily stood up. Fatigue had already begun setting in, the fear of the situation and the duration of her imprisonment had taken a toll on her small body. She hadn't eaten well since before the robbery, sleeping less than eating. Thoughts of Daryl battered her weary mind. He was out there somewhere. Dead or alive, she needed to know. He had rescued her and now it was her turn.

She turned her eyes on the mahogany desk. Just under a stack of papers, Beth saw the glint of a silver letter opener. It wouldn't do much to saw her bindings, but she figured that she could use the tip to loosen or tear them. She moved rapidly towards the desk, turning her back and inching the opener towards the tape with her fingertips. It took several minutes to work a hole into the tape. When she finally succeeded in puncturing it, she used her fingers to slowly work them open. All the while, tape ripped away tiny pieces of skin around her wrists, causing tears to flow silently down her face. Listening for steps in the hall, she started to work her arms up and down as she fought to free her hands. When the hole became wide enough to tear, Beth sighed a breath of relief. She could do this.

By chance, she saw the keys to Daryl's cuffs glinting from the corner of her eye. Lifting them with a tender hand, she placed them deep in her pocket and quietly exited the room. She had only been to Gareth's house once, but once had been enough. She glided gracefully down the hallway. Unlike in the woods, memory allowed her to navigate the house slowly and quietly. Peeking around the corner, she bolted into the kitchen and silently opened the old wooden door. It gave quietly. Her luck ran out with the screen, the damn thing creaked slightly when opened. She pulled it open as little as possible, flattened her body and slid through the crack. She tip-toed across the porch, losing her footing on the second step, she fell roughly to the ground. She mumbled to herself, convinced that the house was determined to get her coming and going.

She picked herself up. Seeing a barn not too far off, she figured if Daryl was around, and alive, he would be there. She ran the distance between the house and the barn. After reaching the large double front doors, she decided that she should try to sneak through the back instead. It took her a minute to pull the rusted metal shell open. Walking in, she was hit with the most awful smell. Decay. Not really death, just rotting and rancid. She looked into the stables on her left. To her surprise, there was a person lying on the ground. She could not tell if they were alive or dead. She whispered to them words of reassurance before departing to find Daryl.

The wind caught the partially open back door, causing it to bang lightly against the frame. Hearing the noise close behind her, her heart seized in her chest. Adrenaline surged through her and she ran away from the stables as quickly as she could. Keeping her head twisted towards the noise in the back, she ran headlong into a support beam. The impact of her head caused an audible cracking sound, but did not slow her down. Disentangling herself, she continued forward and straight into Daryl's dangling legs. His hands were bound by rope, the handcuffs had been removed and discarded on a workbench. She looked up to see the rope looped around a hook. At first, she was afraid that she couldn't reach to get him loose. With his arms stretched up, the rope was at least eight feet from the ground. She had no idea how she was going to get up there to cut him free. As she stood, watching him breathe, she felt a profound sense of relief and a wave of optimism washed over her.

"Daryl..."

When he didn't move, she raised her voice. "Daryl wake up!"

He remained motionless. Beth knew that she didn't have much, if any, time left. By now either Gareth or Phillip would have found out that she was gone. It was only a matter of time.

She looked around the barn and spotted a small wooden bench. It certainly wasn't tall enough, but it was a start. It was probably two feet off of the ground and her eyes scanned the area for anything else that could give her a boost. At the corner of the workbench was a stack of three 10 gallon buckets. Bingo. She dragged the bench close to Daryl's legs and stacked the buckets on top of the bench. It looked precarious, and unlikely, but she had to give it a try. She climbed up on a small piece of exposed bench. There was only about two inches of empty space, the rest was completely covered by the buckets. It started wobbling and tipping. She looked around for something to make the thing more stable. Nothing. She moved the bench further from Daryl and closer to the rafter's crossbeam, figuring that she could use it to help her climb. She repositioned her buckets and up she went. It was the perfect height, but a little far from the target. One false move would send her tumbling back into the barn floor.

She stretched out her arm, slowly. The bench and buckets wobbling wildly to the side. She realized that she had her eyes closed and reluctantly opened them. To her surprise. Daryl's eyes were open and watching her. He looked like he was more than a little amused. He inclined his head towards his pocket and she could see the telltale line of a pocketknife. Since he would be unable to grab it, she was going to have to dig it out of his pocket. Frick.

She jumped back into the barn floor. Moving the bench closer to Daryl's legs, she used them to pull herself onto the bench and buckets. The added weight was causing the rope to cut deeply into Daryl's wrists. She could see blood dripping down the ropes. He grimaced, but didn't cry out. Once she was balanced, she reached timidly into his pocket. Her fingers probed, trying to push deep enough to get her hands on his stolen knife. Her fingers made contact with cool metal and she breathed out a sigh of relief. Looking at Daryl's face, she saw that he was blushing deeply. She quickly ducked her head, and flipped open the knife, sawing at the ropes. The knife was fairly sharp and the pieces quickly frayed apart. Daryl dropped to the floor and she lost her balance, tumbling down on top of him. He wrapped his arm around her, giving her a small squeeze and then pushed her away.

They could vaguely hear the scraping of one of the front doors being opened. Reacting without thinking, She grabbed Daryl by the arms and began to pull. Together, they ran towards the back of the barn, opened the door and out they ran. With each step, she thanked god that Phillip had been so careless.

Beth's feet ached. The ground that they had been running over was littered with tiny rocks that dug into her painfully. As she slowed, Daryl gripped her forearm, urging her to continue. When they neared the trees, a man stepped out. Daryl and Beth stopped moving, looking at him and waiting for him to make his move. Instead, he lifted his open palms in front of him, indicating that he was unarmed. He reached inside of his coat pocket, causing Daryl to push Beth roughly behind him. The man pulled out a badge and held it out for them to inspect.

"Officer Grimes, you got some shit timing." Daryl narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the officer.

"Yeah, I figured that out on my own. Come with me, got some questions for ya." Rick pulled a radio out of his pocket and called for a car. Beth clung tight to Daryl, he was now the only thing holding her upright.

"Ain't so sure that's a good idea." Daryl pushed Beth back a step and squared off with the man in front of him, causing him to laugh.

"You can come with me the easy way or hard way, by the looks of it, you ain't got much fight left so you should probably just come easy."

* * *

"Can you state your name please."

Beth looked briefly at the mirror that she knew to be a two-way. "I'm Elizabeth Greene, Beth for short."

"Can you briefly state the nature of your relationship to Gareth Blake."

"I met him at an AA meeting, used to sing for him, said he like it." Beth turned her eyes to her hands and picked at the cuticles. "Can I talk to Daryl?"

"Not just yet, got a few more questions for you. What was your relationship with a Ms. Carol Peltier?"

"I didn't have any special relationship with her, she was my boss." Beth blushed slightly, still stinging from the revelation that Carol had conned her way into Beth's life. Even so, she still cared enough not to help the cops catch up with her.

"What can you tell me about the brothers Merle and Daryl Dixon?"

She tried to keep her eyes forward and face level, schooling herself into indifference before attempting to answer the question. "Don't know Merle, but Daryl found me in the woods after I ran away. He tried to help me get to safety." She looked pointedly at the cop questioning her, "I would like to see him, I don't mind being helpful, but I want him in here."

Before the officer could deny her request, a tall man walked inside. She recognized him as the man that had found her and Daryl. Officer Grimes. She eyed him cautiously as he whispered into the other man's ear. Following orders, the officer left them alone. He looked openly at Beth and extended his hand to her.

"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Rick Grimes. I'm going to take over the questioning from here." His drawl washed over her, putting her at ease. "I know that the last few days have been rough, to say the least, but it's over now. Do you have any questions for me?" He stood aside as the door opened and an angry looking Daryl was ushered inside.

The officer sat Daryl next to Beth. Their limbs settled close to each other on the cold metal table. She looked back at Rick.

"Where's my daddy and Maggie." She saw a shadow cross his face. His expression betrayed him and she could feel the blood rush to her head. Tears burned her eyes as she waited his explanation.

"Yer father, Hershel, he was murdered by Officer Walsh. I'm very sorry." He waited for a moment before continuing. "Yer sister escaped, but she's in the wind. We haven't seen or heard from her. Any idea where she might be?"

Beth dropped her head onto her arms, shaking her head. Small tremors ran through her body and Daryl watched a moment before gently stroking her back with his cuffed hands. He looked at Rick and gestured towards the cuffs with a nod of his head. Obligingly, Rick released him and stepped outside to give them a moment. Daryl turned her gently towards him and pulled her face into his shoulder. He whispered to her, nonsensical words of reassurance. Their relationship had changed so fast. From hostage to something much much different. It wasn't romance, it was deeper, bound together by heartache and hurt. In the few short days that they had been together, he had felt more companionship than the last five years spent with Merle. He breathed in her smell, allowing it to envelop him. He felt a subtle tightening in his chest and a few tears escaped into Beth's hair. Even after two days in the woods, she still smelled like sunflowers and wheat.

When Rick returned, he found them holding each other in a mess of tears and limbs. He cleared his throat and looked away as they tried to regain their composure.

"We ain't chargin' you with anything. Neither of you. Found a cabin full of dead men and one more dead man at the Blake home. As far as I'm concerned, we still have two suspects at large. Must be several states over by now." He nodded his head to Daryl. "I'm sorry about everything you've been through Ms. Greene. We will come by and finish getting yer statement in a few days, but we got a pretty good picture of what happened. None of it's yer fault."

"How is any of this connected? The robbery...Gareth." As she reached his name, she sobbed violently. "Where is Gareth."

"The robbery was a way to pull the police away from the station so Officer Walsh could steal evidence from the locker. Something that belonged to Gareth or the Blake family must have been in one of the bags." He paused and waited for her to comprehend what he was telling her before looking in Daryl's direction. "Senator Blake lied, we didn't find Gareth in the pond."

"He took those girls didn't he?" Rick nodded his head slowly and she continued. "I saw their pictures on a cork board when we came in. He picked 'em because they looked like me, didn't he." Her face was masked in pain.

"Ya can' think like that Beth, it's not on you, it was on him. T'ain't yer fault." Daryl interjected, tightening his hold on her as if she would float away. Rick nodded his agreement.

"You should go ahead and get outta here. One of my officers will drop you off. Daryl, a word please." Beth stood up slowly with some help from Daryl. Extending her hand, she told Rick goodbye and indicated that she would be waiting in the hall. Once Rick and Daryl were alone, he motioned for him to step closer.

"Gareth is still out there. She's in danger as long as he's still free. But, that ain't what I wanted to talk to you about." Daryl crossed his arms over his chest.

"Get on with it then." His gruff response caused Rick to chuckle.

Between you an me, I know you didn't just find Beth wanderin' in the woods. I ain't takin' you in, well," Rick scratched his neck, looking for the right words, "mostly because, until we find Maggie, you're all she's got left. I don't know what happened these last few days, but brother she's keepin' you outta trouble." Rick clapped him on the back and walked away, leaving Daryl alone in the room. He wandered out behind him.

"Let's go home." Daryl nodded his head. He looked down briefly as Beth entwined her fingers with his, pulling him behind her.


	11. Chapter 10

When they walked through the door, a heaviness fell over Beth. Her heart seized in her chest and a sob escaped. The screen door was still broken; however, somebody had taken great pains to clean up the kitchen. She could see some staining on the hardwood floor. She averted her eyes and walked slowly through the hall. She paused at the steps, waiting for Daryl to join her. Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she held out her hand to him. When he accepted it, she gently tugged him behind her. Entering her room was like a punch in the stomach. She realized that she would never again hear her daddy's snores from down the hall. Shaking lightly, Beth sat on her bed and waited for Daryl to join her.

"Please Daryl." He ran his eyes over her before sitting down on the far edge of the bed. She reached her arm over to him and lightly placed her hand on his bicep, squeezing once before getting up to change her clothes.

Daryl adverted his eyes as she began to dig through her drawers. He wasn't meant for a place like this. Aside from the crime scene that had once been a kitchen, the house was large and well kept. It had been lived in, not by drifters like him and his brother, but a real family like Beth had. He would be willing to put money down that her father had never lifted a finger to her. He felt dirty. He looked down at his stained clothes, lived in for days. He was dirty from the inside out. Beth let out a nervous gasp as he sat up quickly, suddenly self conscious about his soiled clothes ruining her comforter. He could feel the heat creeping up in his cheeks. He was embarrassed, confused and getting more angry by the second. When Beth approached him and laid a hand against his chest, he lost his cool, shoving her away. The look she gave him just confirmed what he knew. He was a piece of shit and she was way too good for him. Her in her perfect little fairytale world. Not any more. A voice interrupted his thoughts of self loathing. Now she was an orphan like him.

No, not like him, the stubborn voice interjected. Not fucking like him at all. He held his arm out in front of him as a warning not to get any closer. She caught his arm in her hand and moved it out of her way, only to be pushed backwards again. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, just hard enough to make her angry.

"Why are you doing this?" She looked at him, fire behind her eyes. It was the look she had given him after she had dug her booted feet into his stomach. His head was swimming as guilt and regret surfaced. His breathing became labored, as he turned to leave the room, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"I know what you're thinking. It happened, let's just move past it. I'm not mad anymore. I don't hate you." His back was still turned to her, but she could feel his body shaking through her tenuous grasp. He flipped around quick, catching her off guard.

Before she could react, he caught her arm in his hand and twisted it painfully behind her back, pushing her face into the periwinkle wall. He moved his head closer to her, pushing his nose into her hair and inhaling deeply. Moving his free hand, he tangled his fingers in her dirty hair and tugged roughly.

"You hate me now?" He used his entangled hand to push her head more firmly against the wall. His breath tickled her ear, causing her to stiffen against him.

"No." She replied softly. It was almost too quiet to hear.

He used his knee to spread her legs, pushing his weight against her to pin the rest of her body against the wall. He took his hand from her hair and wrapped it around her long, graceful neck, applying pressure. He could feel the flutter of her pulse quicken with fear and smiled. He would have made his daddy proud then. He could feel rather than hear a noise escape from her. The proximity was causing him physical pain. He could feel himself stiffen painfully and he permitted his hand to drift from her neck, tracing her clavicles, the soft swell of her breast and ghosting over her ribs before stopping and allowing them to rest there firmly.

"I don't hate you Daryl." He leaned his forehead against her hair, small tears escaping from his firmly closed eyes. He moved his knee from between her legs and turned away, ashamed of himself. His chest seized painfully and began to sob, the horrors of the last few days finally setting in on him. His leg ached, his head ached, his shoulder ached and his heart ached. Before he could follow his despair into a spiral of loathing and self hate, he felt a small pair of arms encircle his waist. She squeezed lightly, reversing their previous position. His tension melted away.

"I'm gonna go shower now, you sit right there until it's your turn. Okay?" She paused and looked at him until he nodded his head. "I don't want to be alone." He nodded his head more firmly.

She didn't take long in the shower, her body tired, starved and dehydrated. She wrapped a soft pink towel around her and exited the bathroom. Daryl met her eyes and then quickly looked away, not wanting to embarrass her. She stalked towards him slowly, coming to rest between his massive boot clad feet. He looked at the contrast between black leather and bare skin, slightly tanned from wearing flip flops in the sun. She placed her hand under his jaw and raised his head to meet her eyes. She smiled briefly before touching her lips to his. He kissed her with reserve that bordered on reverence. It wasn't meant to be a kiss of passion. Instead, it was one of comfort, meant to fill the holes that their family had left behind. He could feel her tears on his cheeks, or maybe it was his tears on her. He couldn't tell. They were a perfect intermingling of flesh and spirit.

"The shower is all yours." She smiled and gestured towards the bathroom. "Towels are under the sink, I don't have any masculine smelling stuff so you're gonna smell kinda like a flower. I don't mind if you don't." She waggled her eyebrows, the gesture an emulation of her sister. Daryl exaggeratedly rolling his eyes before excusing himself and disappearing in the bathroom.

Beth had long since drifted into a light sleep when she felt the bed sag under Daryl's weight. She wiggled herself closer to him and he wrapped his arm tightly around her. His breath was hot against her neck. She could feel the bare skin of his chest against her partially exposed back, the heat of him and the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled her back into a much deeper sleep.

The splintering of wood brought Daryl back from the dead. He could feel Beth spring up beside him, her breath quick and heavy laden with fear. Moving quickly and silently, he opened her bedroom door and disappeared down the stairs. Beth cringed as she heard him catch the squeaky step at the bottom of the staircase. She could hear a feminine whimper and shouting. She recognized the voice an ran quickly down the steps. She glanced back for a moment before running dead smack into Daryl. He was standing still on the bottom step. A gun was now pointed at them both. She paused to assess the situation. Maggie was down on her knees, Gareth had a stiff grip on her bicep. She could see the bruises from where he had been dragging her around by her arm. The sight made her sick and angry.

"What in the hell are you doing?" She pushed Daryl out of her way.

"Who is this?" Gareth gestured at Daryl with his gun. Beth moved between them and glared at him.

"Did you hurt her?" She nodded towards her sister and Gareth smiled. It was deep and genuine. She had seen it a million times when she had sang for him at Terminus. For a moment she relented, but only a moment. When she looked back at Maggie's arm, she could feel her blood boil.

He chuckled, "Well, somebody is going to have to start answering questions. I'll go first." He released Maggie's arm like it had burned him. "I didn't hurt her. I wouldn't do that to you. I love you. Who is this man, why is standing here in his underwear...In your house?" His smile dropped and he edged closer to what Beth now realized was insanity. The mood in the room shifted instantly.

His eyes followed Maggie as she ran to her sister and embraced her deeply. Their arms intertwined. Beth could feel her sister's sobs wracking her body.

"Daryl." She cleared her throat. "His name is Daryl. I didn't want to be alone." As he edged closer to madness, the atmosphere began to stifle her. Her breath was ragged.

"Look at him Beth. He isn't good enough for you. Look. At. Him." Beth shook her head in defiance, and Gareth continued more desperately, gesturing wildly with his gun. "Come over here Daryl, stand right there."

Daryl hesitated for a moment before walking forward. He edged his body between Beth's and the gun, willing to take a bullet for her. Gareth stepped forward and circled him. His eyes roamed over Daryl's naked torso and he scoffed. Daryl bristled at the noise, but was not yet willing to do anything rash. When Gareth had finished his examination, he returned to his previous position. He rocked back on his heels slightly, assuming an air of curiosity.

"Just look at him. All those scars on his back. If he wasn't worthless, his parents never would have done that to him." Beth could see a wicked gleam in his eyes. Her heart beat faster and she could feel each word down to her soul. She started shaking her head as Gareth held up a silencing hand. "Trash. Not worth the air it takes to sustain him."

Beth watched in horror as Daryl's shoulders slumped. She saw the lashings marring the flesh of his back. Tears ran freely down her face as she listened to Gareth confirm everything that Daryl had already felt about himself. There was no telling how many times he had heard his mother or his father call him worthless before taking the strap to his hide.

"Stop." She choked out finally. "Don't talk to him like that." Gareth cut his eyes at her. Smile gracing his features once more. His insanity ebbed and flowed with an intensity of a bursting damn.

"So there is something between you. I should have known. You're spoiled, just like the rest of them. Overindulged by a well to do daddy." He paused as if collecting his thoughts. "They screamed you know. All of them. The last one knew what was going to happen, but she begged anyway. Have you ever heard someone beg for their life Beth?" His eyes were glazed over. Daryl was standing still, him and Beth immobilized. She sobbed and shook her head no. Not wanting to hear, but knowing that she must. They deserved somebody to bear witness.

"I was so crazy about you. The moment I saw you. Blond hair just like an angel's. They were close, but just not close enough. It helped to control the urges. When you thought I was sneaking off for meth or, well, whatever drug you thought I was doing, I was looking for the next one. It takes time to find someone that even comes close to passing for you. And the entire time, I was picturing what it would be like to tear into your skin. That beautiful, pale skin. Perfect, just like a ripe peach."

Beth could feel her stomach turning, bile creeping slowly into her throat. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her disgust, of her fear. It was her fault. She had as good as killed them. The tears burned her eyes and cheeks. She took a shaky step forward.

"Just let them go. You can do whatever you want to me." Gareth took an involuntary step forward, gravitating towards his prize.

"No Beth." She shook her head at Daryl, silently begging him not to interfere. Gareth held out his hand for her to take. As she reached him, she placed her hand lightly on the arm holding his gun. He let it drop to his side and the gun slipped from his grasp. He dipped his head to take in the smell of her hair, a perverse parody of what Daryl had done earlier. She couldn't suppress the shudder that traveled through her body.

Before he could comment, the front door burst open. The already splintered and broken wood screamed in protest as Officer Rick Grimes stepped over the threshold. He was followed closely by a battered man in a dirty wife beater and black pants. Beth went to run, but found herself wrapped up in Gareth's arm. The smile never left his face.

"Step back now or I'll break her pretty little neck." He tightened his grasp on her and started to lead her towards the door.

"You ain't gonna be wantin' to do that. There's a hell of a lot of firepower out there." The man behind Sheriff Grimes rasped out. Gareth lined himself with the door and looked out into the night. He could see the blue and red flashing lights. Beth could feel him shudder with rage and his grasp tightened. He was losing control and they could all sense it.

"Let her go." Sheriff Grimes put his gun back into the holster. He had drawn it instinctively on the way inside. "We can talk about this, calmly. No need for anyone to get hurt." Gareth laughed derisively.

"I'm going to be making the..." His sentence was cut short. As he had been speaking, he had turned his back to Daryl. It had been long enough to allow the hunter time to pick up the discarded gun. He brought it heavily against Gareth's head, knocking him unconscious.

"Good ta see ya baby brother." Daryl just nodded. He helped Beth extricate herself from Gareth's limbs and walked her back to her sister.

"It's over now. It's all over." Rick cooed soothingly. Two of his officers came in behind him and he gestured towards Gareth's limp form. They cuffed his hands behind his back and help each other lift and move him through the door. Once he was no longer in her sight, Beth fell to the floor. Daryl followed close behind, sitting firmly beside her and holding her in his arms. If it had not been for him, Beth would have fallen apart that night. He helped to hold her together.

* * *

_Maggie slapped at the hands of a medic as he was trying to examine her arms. He huffed out a frustrated breath and pushed her hands away. She cut her eyes at him, causing him to laugh._

_"This would go faster, if you just let me do my job." She rolled her eyes at him and submitted to his prodding. "I'm Glenn, by the way."_

_"I didn't ask." Maggie snapped at him. Glenn shrugged his shoulders and smiled._

* * *

The next few hours of questioning was a blur. When they were finally permitted to leave, Daryl led Beth outside. They were running on no sleep, little food and a lot of pain. When Marla came into view, Beth planted her head on Daryl's shoulder and chuckled. They would have a lot of healing to do and it would be a long hard road to forgiveness. She lifted her head to meet Daryl's eyes and couldn't help the smile that graced her features.

"Where are we going?" He put his hand on the back of her neck and teasingly squeezed.

"Don't know, taking requests." She shook her head.

"Before we go anywhere, why in the heck does your brother call his truck Marla?" Beth looked up at her unlikely hero and for the first time since knowing him he let out a genuine bark of laughter. His face turned red for a moment and he looked sheepish.

"After Marla Hooch. You know, cuz she ain't as pretty as the other girls, but she's just as good." She decided not to ask him to elaborate further and took his face into her hands. She lightly placed a kiss on his nose and skipped off towards the truck. Although her heart was heavy, she had hope that maybe some day she would be okay again. Optimism and compassion. They were the defining characteristics that made her who she was. She knew that her daddy wouldn't want her to let the darkness in and by god she wasn't going to let him down. Daryl opened the truck door and gestured for Beth to get inside.


End file.
